The Pharaoh Part III
by the7joker7
Summary: Pharaoh Atemu regrets the decisions of his past, and now hopes to find redemption through a peace treaty. But it's hard to be good. Especially when the gods tempt you so...Drama/Tragedy
1. Latelife Crisis

The Pharaoh Part III

Hello and welcome to the third and final part of my fanfiction trilogy. The Pharaoh is something I've been working on for many years, taken many breaks from, and spent many hours planning and thinking about. I'm mostly happy with the way it's come out, and I'm looking forward to ending it with a bang.

The Pharaoh trilogy is an alternate timeline look at the Ancient Egyptian events of the Yugioh canon. The plot is inspired by The Godfather trilogy, and the stories are a loose adaptation of that film series.

Part One and Part Two are available on my profile. In theory, each part can stand alone as it's own story, but to understand everything the entire trilogy is required.

This story is rated T for some mild language, violence, and adult themes.

""""

Chapter One: Latelife Crisis

A light, happy tune rang through the courtyard of Pharaoh Atemu's palace from the squad of reed pipes. The entire sandy plain was covered in people, eating fine food and drinking fine drink, taking in the festivities. Atemu stood up on high, at the top of his marble staircase, looking down at the party.

He glanced over to his right, at the neatly carved and trimmed slab of marble where the corpse of the former High Priest Seto lay. His long, lean body had been symmetrically aligned into a dignified, professional looking body, hands clasped on his chest and eyes closed peacefully.

Atemu chewed on his lower lip, feeling twinges of sadness claw at his stomach. Isis stood to his immediate right, noting the pitiful frown on the Pharaoh's face.

"I already miss him." Isis lamented. "All of Egypt will miss him."

"It was too early for him." Atemu turned back to look down at the masses. "Same age as me. Forty-three."

"He lived a good life." Isis took the two steps over to the marble surface where he lay. "As any life would be in service to you, my Pharaoh."

"I wish." Atemu looked over at Isis circling the body. She still had a grace and beauty about her even as old age brought on wrinkles and skin blemishes.

"You are your own worst critic, as always." Isis said, playing her right hand's fingers on Seto's left knee. "Your reign has been magnificent, you are the greatest Pharaoh to ever grace Egypt with your rule. Seto no doubt thanked the gods on a daily basis for being granted the honor of serving you."

Atemu chuckled, again biting his lower lip. "Stop kissing my butt so much."

"But it's the truth, Pharaoh Atemu." Isis insisted, coming back up to stand next to the Pharaoh.

"I'm getting older, you know." Atemu gave a wry smile. "The older you get, the less crap you want to hear. Scale it back a bit. It's my birthday, can't you give me that?"

She returned the smile. "If it would please your grace, I will speak more informally in your holy presence from now on."

"You and Mahad, all that remain of my original inner circle." Atemu remarked. "I wish they could have had longer lives. They have been taken from us too early. I wonder if the stress from their positions is to blame."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I feel great." Isis looked behind her at the palace entrance. "Speaking of which-"

"Mahad is not well." Atemu said grimly. "He came to pay his respects and wish me well, and I insisted he return to his bed."

Isis sighed, looking toward her left in the general direction of Mahad's palace. "Is it serious?"

"Depends on the application of that term." Atemu started to descend the massive stairs, Isis following. "I don't suspect he's at death's door this very second. But I do fear his time his nearing. This isn't the first time in recent memory he's fallen ill."

Isis took a moment to reflect on her own clean bill of health even in her aged state, wondering what the reasons for it might be.

"Seto had been falling ill frequently in the years leading up to his death." Atemu recalled mournfully. "We all saw it coming, nothing we could do about it. He served me loyally until the day it claimed him though. I couldn't have asked for a better High Priest."

"I will not disappoint in replacing him, Pharaoh." She assured him. "You have my word."

"I know you won't." Atemu nodded.

"I am sorry these sad thoughts must plague you during what should be a glorious day." Isis added, tapping his right shoulder with her left hand. "Your forty-third birthday should be a-"

"I am more than willing to share my day of celebration with Seto's day of memoriam." Atemu interrupted, coming to a stop halfway down the stairs, now able to make out rough facial features and light detail in the crowd close to the stairs.

"After your speech, I'll send the order out to begin the mourning and the public showing of respect." Isis stopped right behind him, just a step higher.

"Very good." Atemu sighed. His eyes fell on his son, the twenty-three year old Ammon, prince of Egypt and heir to the throne, sitting on the third step up on the right side, in conversation with a woman seated to his left.

"Let's talk about you, Pharaoh." Isis prompted, again patting his shoulder. "How are you? How do you feel?"

"Well. Pretty good, outside of the fact that my son hates me." Atemu said bitterly.

The woman turned her head to look up the stairs, then enthusiastically wave up at Atemu. Atemu returned the wave half-heartedly. It was Mana, the golden goose of his reign. The black magic powers within her, thought extinct for hundreds of years prior, powered the unstoppable juggernaut that was Egypt. With her vast abilities, Atemu could crush any opposing force in the blink of an eye, and thanks to her Egypt had grown so vast it threatened to consume the entire world.

When they had met, she was an adorable eight year old girl, but had now blossomed into a gorgeous twenty-three year old woman, a shapely figure now complimenting her enthusiastic and cheery personality. It was hardly a surprise when Ammon's pre-teen crush on her morphed into a full romantic relationship over the past decade, and now they spent almost all their time together.

"Don't be ridiculous." Isis chided. "Your son loves and adores you."

Atemu grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at the two young adults talking. "Sometimes I'm positive we accidentally switched babies twenty years ago. I can hardly believe he's my seed."

"Don't say things like that." Isis looked over his shoulder at the two. "Ammon is a wonderful young man, and you should be very proud of him."

"I don't know what they talk about all day." Atemu pursed his lips as he watched their conversation, well out of earshot of what was being said. "You know they've known each other for nearly fifteen years, and he still can't string together a sentence when she's around? All he has to do is see her and he goes all red, starts stammering like an idiot. And you can forget about it if she smiles at him. He almost wets himself. It's an embarrassment."

"I think it's cute." Isis said, smiling warmly at the sight of them leaning in closer to each other.

"He's a prince." Atemu deadpanned. "Girls should be throwing themselves at him. He has more to offer a woman than any man in the history of civilization. And he can hardly remember how to speak properly around Mana. It's disgraceful. I was a prince once, I _never_ conducted myself in such a degrading manner around women."

"Well, I think they make a cute couple." Isis grabbed Atemu's elbows, squeezing them lightly. "You should be happy he's taken such a liking to Mana, at this point she's practically royalty."

Atemu spun around, glaring down at the shorter Isis, even with the help of the extra step. "You know that's not true." He grumbled. "You're one of the few who knows the truth behind Mana."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She asked, forehead wrinkling more than it already was.

"Mana has served me well, and been invaluable to my reign. I have rewarded her handsomely for her service. But to have her officially brought into the royal family? Knowing how she came to be?" Atemu shook his head. "How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"She'd make a lovely princess and an even lovelier queen." Isis insisted. "I think you know that. She's a wonderful person. You couldn't ask for a sweeter girl."

"That's not the point." Atemu groaned, turning around to again look at the couple. His heart sank slightly as Mana leaned in to give his son a peck on the cheek. "If she enters the royal family, her blood becomes part of the lineage. I don't know if I can abide by that." He rubbed his forehead with his right hand. "He's going to ask her to marry him, I just know it. And they're going to ask me for my blessing. What am I supposed to say?"

Isis shrugged. "They will marry either way."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Atemu countered, turning away from the two lovebirds.

"Are you suggesting your son hates you because he's madly in love with a girl who was born through un-natural methods, even though he doesn't know anything about those un-natural methods?" Isis questioned as they again began a descent toward the teeming masses.

"It's more than that." Atemu moaned. "He's...he's just so..._passive_. I can hardly imagine him on the throne."

"He'll be fine." Isis soothed, pushing strands of black hair out of her face with her hands.

"I hoped he would come around with age, but he's twenty-three now. I'm afraid he is what he is at this point." Atemu was just a few steps away from the bottom, looking away from his son and Mana. "Have you seen his test scores? He's not terribly bright either."

"I seem to recall a certain someone writing that eight plus seven was eighty-seven on an intelligence test once upon a time." Isis said playfully.

"I was seven." Atemu replied defensively, even as a smirk played across his lips. "It's just...when it comes time to make the tough decisions that a Pharaoh has to make, I don't know if he'll make the right ones."

"Your son will make a fine Pharaoh. Particularly in that by the time you give him the throne, Egypt will be the only country standing on this half of the planet." She insisted. "How many hard decisions are there going to be for him when you've already crushed all of Egypt's rivals?"

Atemu nodded. "I...I suppose." He looked around at the crowd he was now very nearly level with.

"Looking for someone?" Isis asked, similarly casting her eyes about.

"N-no." Atemu lied. There was one individual he had hoped would be there today. One who's lack of presence bothered him. He closed his eyes, thinking on the events of three days ago.

""""

_Atemu could feel the aged woman stiffen as he entered the room. She was hanging a pile of cleaned and dried robes in the closet of the Pharaoh, delicately placing the fine silk cloth on hooks and hangers. Atemu watched her fumble with the wooden hangar in her hands, gasping as she dropped the robe to the ground._

_He slowly approached her, watching her begin to shake in fear as she bent down to pick it up, not looking at her new master. Taking pity on her, he raised his right hand toward her and beckoned her towards him with his finger._

_"Kisara." He sidestepped over to the left, toward the massive purple cushion against the back wall. She froze. "Come here."_

_She swallowed hard, taking staggered, unsteady steps out of the closet and onto the carpeted floor of Pharaoh Atemu's bedroom. Quickly, she melted down to the floor in a kneeling position, forehead on the thick carpet, getting herself down as low as possible._

_"That's enough." Atemu said, sitting down on the large, pillowy couch. "Come here."_

_Uneasily, she brought herself up into a pose of supplication. Blue eyes wide, reflecting great fear, she kept her head down as she started to crawl toward the sitting Pharaoh._

_"Get up." He leaned back in the large chair._

_Breathing laboredly, she rose into an upright kneeling position, staring in confusion at Atemu._

_"Stand up." He ordered. She saw no choice but to comply, noting with horror that her head was now up higher than his._

_She approached the holy man, the man who held within in the blood of the gods, bare feet sinking into the carpet with every heavy step._

_He pointed down at the couch next to him with his right index finger, smiling warmly. "Sit down." He instructed._

_Shaking in terror, she eased her bottom down onto the cushion right where Atemu had instructed, big beautiful eyes staring right into the Pharaoh's face. She hunched over in her seat, the blood rising to her cheeks and bringing a red tint to her pale skin._

_And then, suddenly, he leaned in toward her and embraced her small figure in a hug. She started to whimper in fear as Atemu wrapped his big arms around her shoulders, chest rising as she pushed air in and out of her lungs as fast as she could._

_"Shh. Shh." He soothed. "It's okay. It's okay."_

_In the comfort of his arms, she slowly started to relax, his warm embrace offering no indication of punishment forthcoming._

_"Are you okay? You doing alright?" He asked, pulling away from the hug._

_She nodded, a quick rapid bob of her head._

_"It's okay. I know it's tough. I miss him too. You can talk to me." He stroked his right hand through her long white hair._

_"I loved him." She whispered. "S-so much." _

_"He loved you very much." He responded, she giving a quick nod again as a tear dropped down her cheek. "I...I can still remember how he pleaded for your life." He looked down at the ground in shame. "He was a proud man. But for you..."_

_"I spent fifteen years in his palace. Every night, going to bed with him. Every night, being held by him. I would not trade those fifteen years for fifteen thousand years of living as a princess of Egypt. I would not trade them for anything." Kisara said softly, more tears threatening to emerge from her eyes. "You graced me with those fifteen years, mighty Pharaoh. You had every right...every reason to have me killed long ago, and you spared me. You gave me those fifteen years, and for that I am forever in your debt."_

_Atemu patted her right shoulder. "I would have been a true monster to take you from Seto. He served me so loyally and meant so much to my reign." He swallowed. "I want to apologize."_

_She turned to look up at him, a dumbfounded expression on her face._

_"For making you work as a slave all these years. I...I didn't need to do that." He said wistfully. "I...I regret it. If I could do it again, I would have let you stay in Seto's palace as a permanent guest. My forcing you into slavery was...was a cruel decision on my part, one I made out of anger, and it robbed you of much time you could have spent together. I am sorry."_

_"You have nothing to apologize for, mighty Pharaoh." Kisara bowed her head toward him. "Sparing my life is more kindness than I deserved, and my work as a slave is the very least I can offer in payment."_

_He again glanced down at the ground. "I...I henceforth release you from your servitude to Egypt." He gave another warm smile at her look of shock. "There is no reason for you to remain here any longer. You're free."_

_"I swore I would loyally serve your holiness unconditionally, every day, so long as I lived, and-" _

_"I release you from your duties." He insisted, pulling a strand of pale white hair out of her face. "It's the very least I can do after forcing you to work as a slave all these years. Seto would have wanted this. It will be my final gift to him."_

_A couple tears dripped into her lap, as a tiny smile played on her lips._

_"I'll arrange for you to be moved to a nice house downtown. Set you up with a nice account of gold. You'll never have to work a day for the rest of your life, I promise it."_

_"Y-you don't have to-"_

_"Yes, I do." He said strongly. "I insist on it."_

_She inhaled deeply, than nodded. "Oh, mighty Pharaoh, your kindness is vast beyond the comprehension of mortals."_

_"You may return to your quarters and collect...collect your possessions." He pointed at the door to the bedroom. "A carriage will be waiting to take you to your new home." _

_She exchanged a meaningful glance with the Pharaoh, then stood up. "I am eternally grateful for all of the kindness you have shown me."_

_He too stood up, holding his hands out at his sides. "Come. We may never see each other again."_

_She leaned in, embracing his torso in a hug, tightly clenching him to her body._

_"I'm getting older. Physical contact, the touch of a human...I'm valuing such things more and more with every passing day." He commented._

_In response, she leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the right cheek. He stared at her in some shock at her boldness, and for a split second she was worried she had overstepped her bounds. But he gave a small chuckle and smiled, comforting her._

_"Seto's body is within the main room of his palace. Take all the time you'd like to pay your respects to him." Atemu said as she pulled away, turning to leave._

_"Thank you, mighty Pharaoh." She answered, slowly heading toward the door._

_"His public tribute will take place in three days. On my birthday. Perhaps I'll see you?" Atemu added._

_"I will attend. We may not meet, but I will be there." She answered._

_He nodded as she disappeared through the door._

""""

Atemu sat at the head of the sandstone table, placed just a few meters in front of the stairs. A bubble of sorts had been formed y the crowd around it, a few meters of empty space given by the masses. Around the table were seated the rest of the world leaders, presiding over their tiny remaining scraps of land, having long resigned themselves to complete destruction at the hands of Egypt. Completely helpless to defend themselves against his power, they had spent the last decade waiting for the hammer to fall.

However, the hammer had never quite shown up. Atemu had been slowing his attacks down over time, and it was now down to a snail's pace, nipping at the corners of their territories. It was as if he was playing with them, playing with his food before eating it. So small were the remaining lands of all other countries, some of the leaders were hoping he would just finish the job and get it over with.

But he wouldn't. Even though all of their armies had been shredded to near-nothingness, even though none of them had any means to defend themselves any longer, and even though most of them had managed to transport a significant portion of their treasures and riches to the tiny remaining scraps of land they possessed, he would not finish the job.

"Seto was as fine a High Priest as has ever lived. He was my nephew, connected to me by thick blood bonds. The blood of the gods ran through him as it did me, and he always conducted himself as such. He never once spoke a word of complaint, never took any issue with having to be the High Priest rather than the Pharaoh. He thought it was an honor to serve me as High Priest, an honor he never besmirched. And it was an honor to be served by him." Atemu spoke, glancing around at the uninterested eyes of the people at the table. They didn't much care to hear his praises. He didn't care.

"Even in his last days, as standing and talking was a burden, he continued to serve me loyally. It was only after we finished our final project together, hours after the final details had been hammered out, that he allowed himself to rest. He died shortly after. He willed himself to stay alive until the project had finished. Today, I present that project to the world. The final works of High Priest Seto, and what will be my final act as Pharaoh of Egypt."

Now, the attentions of the table were on him as he reached underneath the sandstone and pulled out a massive roll of parchment. He pushed it across the table, letting it unfurl. Partway down the table, Turkish King Can and Sudan King Raj caught the corners, holding it out flat.

"A map of the world as we know it." He explained. The entire table peered down at the carefully drawn and painted map, Egypt at the epicenter. The country had expanded to an absurd size, perhaps six or seven times the size it had been when Atemu took the throne. All other countries were so small and insignificant it was nearly comical. However, of note was that several large portions of Egyptian territory had been coated with red ink, land close to the borders of the country. The meaning currently lost on the table, Atemu began to speak.

"Egypt has grown immensely over the past quarter-century. The quarter-century since my father was ripped from the throne before his time had come." He met the eyes of every single person at the table, one by one. "I do not regret my choices. I'd do it again if given the chance."

He looked back down at the map, then back down the table.

"But today. Today, I forgive. Today, I lay down my arms. Twenty-five years after the atrocity that you all helped commit, I will forgive." He nodded. "Egypt will cease their attacks, effective immediately. No more will your countries' borders be assaulted by Egyptian armies, unless we are provoked."

He reached under the table, silence engulfing the table, coming up with a much smaller scroll of parchment. He kicked it open, revealing the wordy contents. "Here is the peace treaty me and Seto have written up. It is the first of two parts of our final project. The terms are quite simple. Egypt will cease attacks on all other countries for a hundred years. A hundred year peace, at the very minimum. I ask for only the same from all of you. None of you will launch attacks on Egypt, or any other country for that matter, for a century."

A man to Atemu's left gave a small snort. Emperor Homer, leader of the tiny shreds of Greece that still remained. He ignored it.

"Anyone who breaks the peace treaty will be subject to suffer all the might the rest of the world can muster." Atemu continued. "However, if everyone is willing to abide by it, we will have a long period of peace for all of us to lick our wounds, rebuild, pick up the pieces from this long time of bloodshed."

Someone a little down the right side of the table rolled his eyes. Ahmed, King of Libya. He ignored this too.

He passed the parchment onto Homer, also reaching below the table to pull out a reed pen. He handed this to him as well. "Your choice."

Slowly, Homer read the parchment, taking in every word carefully, weighing every sentence. Atemu simply stared at him for several minutes, until he finally, slowly, raised the pen to sign his name on the bottom.

He passed it along, Atemu nodding. "Very good. I want peace, gentlemen. I desire it. I desire to hand off a kingdom in peace to my heir. I would want nothing more. I don't want to fight anymore." He shot everyone a quick glance again. "However, should any of you decline to sign the treaty, I will take that as a declaration of continued war, and I promise to crush the remaining crumbs of your territories within the moon cycle." He added menacingly.

The remaining signatures came much more quickly, as everyone understood that there was really no other choice. Atemu was poised to grind any of them into the dirt at a moment's notice, and this piece of paper would be the only thing holding him back.

Several minutes later, the parchment got back around to Atemu, signed by every single other world leader. His large signature had already been placed at the very bottom, just to the left of Seto's. He tucked it inside of his shirt, nodding.

"Very good. Now, do you see the colored portions of Egypt on this map?" He pointed back at the large mural, drawing attention back to it. "I am very proud of the way in which Egypt has expanded over the past twenty-five years. But I feel that it may have grown beyond the capabilities of a single man to rule over. I feel it would be pragmatic to shrink my territories, so I could better protect my borders. With less territory to concern me, I can put more time and resources into cities and undeveloped land, improving the overall state of my empire." He gestured down at the red painted territories on the map. "These painted areas represent slightly less than a third of Egypt's current territory. The areas I no longer want." He steepled his fingers in front of his face, elbows on the table. "Gentlemen. I offer these areas to all of you."

He enjoyed the silence as everyone stared at him, letting it hang for a few seconds.

"All of this land you see here. I'm willing to part with it, to any of you." He re-iterated, tapping the map with his right index finger.

"In exchange for what?" Homer asked, finally breaking Atemu's monologue.

Atemu gave a tiny smirk. "Fair market value."

"Our budgets are stretched thin as it is, thanks to you." King Islem of Algeria objected.

"I think your budgets would change significantly if you factored in our peace treaty." Atemu countered coolly. "I know all of you have made every effort to retain as much of your riches as you could, and maintain sizable vaults in your last standing cities. I'm going to be selling territories to the highest bidder, amongst the men at this table. Now, I drive a hard bargain, and you might have to dip into your retirement funds a little to make ends meet. But you're all smart, resourceful world leaders, and you're all capable of finding a way to pull it off."

"So let me get this straight." Homer said languidly. "You're gonna hold an auction for all this land, we're gonna buy it, and you're just gonna abandon it and let us move in?"

"That's the idea. I'll order Egyptian citizens to abandon all cities within the exchanged territories, and then it's all yours. And you can do whatever you like with it." Atemu rubbed his chin with his left hand.

"And how do we know you're not gonna just swoop right back in and take it all back after you get our gold?" Can asked, forehead furrowed. "Not like we could stop you."

"My name is on the peace treaty too." Atemu responded simply. "If I sold you land, then retook it, that would be in violation of it."

Ahmed cleared his throat. "And who's the higher authority holding you to sticking with the treaty?"

"You'll forgive us if a piece of paper fails to entirely convince us of your good intentions." Homer agreed. "How do we know you're going to stick to the treaty?"

"You don't." Atemu said, glaring Homer down. "But I will." He stood up from the chair.

"You will?" Raj repeated, thoroughly unconvinced. "That's the best assurance you have?"

"That's the only assurance I have." Atemu again looked down at the light brown map. "I can not guarantee my continued cooperation in this endeavor beyond that. What I can guarantee, however, is that none of you will survive much longer without participating in this deal. Your remaining lands are so small, your kingdoms threaten to collapse in on themselves. Decline my offer, and by this time next year, you won't be kings and emperors anymore, with or without my attacks. In short, you have little choice." He turned away from the table, about to head up the stairs. "Negotiations begin in two weeks."

"I'm in." Can said when Atemu was two steps up.

"Count me in." Ahmed said grudgingly, holding his hand up in the air.

"You're free to take as much time as you like to consider my offer. However, in two weeks time, I will begin the process of selling land regardless of how many are participating." He waved to the table. "That's all, gentlemen."

""""

"A most wonderful final act as Pharaoh." Isis shook Atemu's hand as he sat on his glorious golden throne, a tiny smile on his face. "You are truly wise, fair, and merciful to come up with such an arrangement."

He nodded. "I am pleased with it. As was Seto." It was late evening now, the party had long since dispersed and Seto's body moved into a private memorial room in the lower levels of the palace. The sun just barely played through the windows, sending long shadows across the marble floor of the throne room.

"It's perfect." She enthused. "You get to shrink and condense your territories, allowing a closer concentration of defenses and focus. Our border guards will be impenetrable for centuries to come."

Atemu leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I do look forward to it."

"And all surrounding countries, they'll be too busy rebuilding their bought lands to even consider attacking anyway for years and years. And even when they're done, there's not going to be much they can do."

"Egypt will be safe for centuries, even after the peace expires." Atemu concurred.

"And...what will you do with all of that gold?" She asked. "All of that land must be worth...worth at least...ten billion gold debens!" Inspite of herself, she got excited at the thought of such figures. "Ammon will appreciate such an influx of riches."

"What won't I do with it?" He asked rhetorically, hand on his chin. "I can eliminate poverty within Egypt, there will be no more slums or ghettos within my cities. I can invest in medicine research, improving health and life spans for everyone. The economy will soar to previously unreached heights. Egypt will become the greatest empire to ever exist within the mortal realm, and will stand as such for thousands of years." He closed his eyes in thought, still smiling to himself. "My final gift to Egypt will be this assurance of glory and dominance."

"And you have made peace too." Isis added. The smile faded from his lips, eyes downcast, but he nodded all the same.

"Yes. Peace." He repeated.

The massive wooden doors to the throne room burst open, knocking the pair out of their visions of the future. Two large, muscular guards held a tall, thin man between them, arms behind his back, him struggling and fighting with every step they pushed him toward the throne.

The Pharaoh and High Priestess stood there as he was dragged forward, never ceasing to fight the trek across the marble floor. After a minute of grunts and groans, they had brought him before the Pharaoh, forcing him to his knees.

"We caught him breaking into High Priest Seto's memorial room." The left guard explained as he continued to fight. Atemu looked him over. He appeared to be in his early to mid 20s, strong and stark features. Atemu felt a strange shiver in his spine as he acknowledged how familiar he looked, but pushed it from his mind.

"What did he do?" Isis asked, hands behind her back, looking at the intruder disdainfully.

"Nothing!" He growled, drawing a slap on the back of the head from the right guard.

"We saw no evidence of any tampering, but he was in there unsupervised for a short time." The right guard detailed, pushing his right foot on the lower leg of the intruder to keep him in a kneeling position.

"You've picked a poor time to be defiling the tomb of my former High Priest." Atemu glared at the young adult. "Such disrespect is worth a death sentence even under the best of times."

"I wasn't defiling anything!" He grunted, ceasing to struggle against the restraint of the guards.

"Then what was your business down there?" Atemu folded his hands in his lap.

"I was...I was trying to pay my respects!" He scowled up at the two guards that held him down.

"His public tribute was earlier today, there was plenty of time to give him your respects then." Atemu said matter-of-factly.

"Gimme a break." He grumbled. "Saying a prayer in a sea of people? Getting a quick glimpse of his body?"

"Your respect for Seto is appreciated, but that public tribute has always served as an adequate show of respect for Egyptian citizens." Atemu cocked his head to the right.

"I'm not just an Egyptian citizen, you old fart!" He screeched, causing the right guard to remove a small blade from his belt and press it up against his neck. Leaning back, away from the metal dagger, he did not pull his eyes from the Pharaoh. "I'm his son!"

Atemu concealed the flips his stomach performed and the accelerated beating of his heart, maintaining a flat expression after these words even as his insides turned.

"Didn't know he had a son?" He hissed, a mad grin playing across his mouth. "Well, he did. He's standing..._kneeling..._right in front of you, and I'll be damned if a public memorial is enough to-"

"Gag him." Atemu said flatly, pointing at his two guards flanking the intruder. The one on the left pulled a cloth from his waist and shoved it into his open mouth, muting his words and reinvigorating his struggles. "Take him down to the dungeons." The two nodded, picking him back up and dragging him away as the one on the left held his right hand over his mouth. "He speaks to no one, keep him gagged. Not a word to anyone until I arrive."

The two watched the madly struggling man get dragged across the marble, fighting the inevitable.

"Well. That was quite something." Isis remarked as the massive wooden door shut behind the trio. "What a fantastic tale."

Atemu nodded, reaching down with his right hand to grab a golden, jeweled goblet from a low platform next to his throne. He brought it to his lips, welcoming the purple liquid into his mouth.

"Not a terribly conceived lie, though." Isis admitted. "He did look an awful lot like Seto."

Atemu merely nodded, draining his drink, deep in thought.


	2. The Son of Seto

Chapter Two: The Son of Seto

Atemu stood right in front of the thick, oak door with the black metal handle ring, a red cloaked guard standing to the right of it against the stone brick wall.

"No one disturbs me. My conversation is to be private." He said sternly, the guard nodding. "No exceptions."

With that, he grabbed the black ring and pulled the wooden slab on it's hinges, revealing a small, torchlit room of plain stone walls. Opposite him was the intruder from earlier that day, arms up above his head and chained to the wall, stone sphere strapped around his head and lodged in his mouth. He was fighting his bonds with every bit of energy he could muster, trying to force all manner of unknown words past his gag. Quickly, Atemu slipped in and shut the door behind him. He stood there, watching the madly struggling figure of the young adult for a few moments, before stepping forward.

A few feet in front of the bound man was a wooden chair, not at all like the ones the Pharaoh was accustomed to sitting in. But it would do. He past it for the moment, getting as close to the man as possible without putting himself in kicking range.

When the man refused to calm himself, and continued to pull and tug madly on his chains, Atemu cleared his throat.

"Continue to conduct yourself in such a manner and I'll slit your throat where you stand." He said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are certainly not conducting yourself like a son of High Priest Seto right now."

Slowly, the man cooled off, letting his feet rest on the stone floor. Atemu took a moment to judge him. He was tall and thin, and there was undoubtedly a hint of Seto in his features. His simple white robes were clean and might have been brand new. He was well built and toned, sweat streaming down his muscular body.

"Now, let me make one thing perfectly clear." Atemu said, coming up closer to him. "I don't want to hear you whining and moaning, as predisposed as you might be to such. I am going to take this gag off. And I am going to ask a question. A very simple question with a very simple answer. I had better hear the answer I want to hear. If I don't, I'm going to re-gag you, leave this room, and have someone come check on you in three moon cycles. Do you understand?"

He could see the frustration in his facial expressions, the humiliation of being restrained like this, but eventually he grudgingly nodded. Atemu reached up, pulling the stone ball from his jaw, letting it fall to sit on his shoulders.

He took in a gasp of air, then swallowed hard, shaking his head back and forth.

"Who is your mother?" Atemu said, staring into the light blue eyes of his captive.

"Kisara." He responded. "The slave, Kisara."

Atemu shuffled over to the chair, sitting down heavily and looking down at the stone tiled floor.

"That's right. The esteemed High Priest had an affair with a lowly peasant girl turned palace slave." He continued. "Right under your nose."

"I know." Atemu said, looking up from the floor. "I've always known."

The prisoner squinted at the Pharaoh. "But-"

"I chose to look the other way." Atemu said sharply. "Me and him. We're cousins, you know. And best friends." He shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? Behead the woman he loved?"

"Well, they had a son." He gave a tiny smirk. "Me. I've been raised in a private, hidden chamber with Seto's palace my entire life, bet you didn't know tha-"

"No. No, I've known that too." Atemu admitted, bending over and putting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

"...bull." He snarled. "If you kne-"

"I've known for a long time. In fact, I've met you before." Atemu stood up, glaring straight into the defiant man's eyes.

He paused, looking over at the stone to his right for a few seconds. "So you believe me?"

"How else could you know of Seto's affair with Kisara?" Atemu leaned back against the right wall, arms again over his chest. "There's a very small number of people who knew of his sordid escapades with her. His son would be one of them. Yes, I believe you."

He nodded. "...g-good. But we've never met, I would have remembered."

"Oh, we've met." Atemu gave a coy smile. "It's just beyond your capacity to remember. I'd say it was about...how old are you now?"

"Fourteen." He answered, drawing a wrinkled brow from Atemu.

"You don't look like a fourteen year old." Atemu said, cocking an eyebrow as he again looked his impressive frame up and down. "Nor do you sound like one."

"Well, you didn't ask me how old I look like, nor did you ask me how old I sound like. You asked me how old I am, and I am fourteen." He said dryly.

Atemu pursed his lips at his boldness. He did some rough calculations in his mind and realized that, yes, assuming Seto had been entirely honest about his affair with Kisara on that day he questioned him so carefully, his son couldn't be older than fourteen.

"Impressive." Atemu said offhand. "Most impressive. Now...when was it I met you? Well, I suppose it was about...fourteen years ago then." He smirked at the memory. "Funny story."

""""

_Atemu pushed through the large wooden door that made up the barrier between High Priest Seto's work room and bed chamber, the thought of knocking slipping his mind as he held a piece of parchment in his hands, reading it even as he opened the door._

_"Seto, these figures have been bothering me all day, I-" he glanced up from the paper, now realizing it might have been prude to knock._

_Such thoughts of politeness were purged far away from his mind at the sight._

_Kisara was kneeling on the bed, frozen in horror at the sight of the Pharaoh. In her arms was a bundle of blankets, a mass of cloth, a tiny human face poking out of the folds. The shrunken, cute face of a very young baby. Sitting on the edge of the bed was High Priest Seto, staring at Atemu in similar horror, holding a small wooden sphere on a stick a few inches away from the baby's face._

_Atemu slowly dropped his arms to his sides, balling his hands into fists, crumpling the parchment into a wad. His face turned dark red as he aimed his best scowl at the unlikely couple, starting to inhale and exhale with all the volume a human could have._

_"Well." He menaced through gritted teeth, taking deliberate, heavy steps toward the bed. The ball of parchment fell to the ground. "Well. Well. __**Well.**__"_

_Seto tore his gaze from the Pharaoh, looking instead at the small wooden toy in his hands. Quickly, he stood up straight and hid the toy behind his back, rattling noises emitting from the object as he did so. Kisara simply kneeled there, still unable to move a muscle._

_"P-pharaoh Atemu!" Seto exclaimed, giving his best smile given the situation. "S-so good to see you, we were just...just..."_

_Atemu continued to take very slow steps toward him, never dropping his gaze, derailing Seto's train of thought at every turn._

_"Just...well, you see, this baby here...a young woman who lives near the...near the hospital recently gave birth to him, and she wants me to b-bless him." He blurted out. "W-with this!" He pulled the wooden toy out from behind his back, Atemu only a few steps away from him now. "She wanted me to bless him with this! But, you see...she had to go...go tend to her sick mother and asked me to do it while she was gone. But the baby, the baby wouldn't stop crying, so I asked Kisara to comfort him so I could perform the blessing!" He gave another nervous smile, Atemu now just a foot away from him. "Yes, and I was just about to do it, when you came in, so now you can...can-"_

_Atemu grabbed the rattle by the sphere, ripping it from Seto's hands. Seto's face twitched at the sight of his red face and ugly scowl, forced smile fading. Atemu clenched the bulb in his right hand, knuckles white. With a series of cracks and snaps, the carved sphere shattered under the pressure of the Pharaoh's grip, dried beans and shards of dark cedar falling to the carpet._

_Seto shut his eyes, swallowing audibly, feeling the burning glare of the man he served on his forehead. "Sir, please forgive me! I am weak and stupid and have sinned!" He yelped, clasping his hands in front of his chest, looking at Atemu pleadingly._

_Atemu looked back at the still frozen Kisara and the tiny child._

_Seto hung his head in shame. "Mighty Pharaoh, I offer my most humble apology for-"_

_"This is...your son?" He asked, pointing a shaking finger at the bundle of cloth in Kisara's arms._

_"Y-yes." Seto confessed, face red with embarrassment. _

_"You had him with Kisara?" His vision started to shake he was so furious._

_"...yes." He whimpered, noting somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind that the Pharaoh had remembered her name._

_"You had him with Kisara." He repeated, the veins in his neck pulsing. "You. Had him. With Kisara." He held his lips together tightly in the nastiest grimace he had ever worn. "You had. Him with. Kisara." His voice was shaking now. He thought he might very well pass out._

_"Sir, I-" Seto tried to squeeze in, but held his tongue when Atemu began to berate him._

_"YOU!" He roared, hands held up close to his face, curled into half-fists, fingers twitching, longing to place them around Seto's neck and strangle him. "You...you...__**you**__..."_

_He turned to Kisara, who glanced down at the ground. "And...and __**you**__..." his hands again clenched back and forth, longing to rob the stupid slave girl of her breath. "You..."_

_He put hands up to his face, covering as much of it as he could with his palms and fingers, eyes squeezed shut in frustration._

_"Mighty Pharaoh, please, I can ex-" Seto attempted, but was cut off by a blood-curling yell of frustration from Atemu. He and Kisara both stiffened at his loud moan of anger, and the baby began to cry. Kisara was snapped from her trance to try and rock the baby back to sleep._

_Finally, he stopped, pointing his right index finger into the face of Seto, advancing on him, forcing the High Priest backwards. "A son? A son? With this...this __**harlot?**__" Seto was forced back against his bedside dresser, pressing his back up to it, eyes wide in fear as Atemu's right finger was perhaps a half inch away from his nose. "Do you think Priests just get to swing their cock around and let their seed land in __**anyone?**__ You think that's how it works?"_

_"N-n-no, of course n-not!" Seto stammered. "Pharaoh, please-"_

_"I don't want to hear it!" He yelled, his tantrum joined by the screeches of the baby. He picked Seto up by the collar, lifted him a few inches above the ground, and slammed him against the dresser, snarling up at him. "Your...your seed, in a girl like that? Do you have any idea how much of an embarrassment that is to my reign? That you would produce offspring with this...__**freak?**__**Do you care one scrap about my reign?**__"_

_"O-of course!" Seto glanced over at Kisara, trying to comfort the baby even as fear wracked her body. "I l-l-live to serve you, my Pharaoh, and-"_

_"Shut up!" He roared, again slamming his back against the dresser. "Were you going to __**raise**__ this child? Hide him from me his entire life? Was that your plan? What would your father think of you if he saw you now? Isis __**never **__does crap like this to me! Mahad, Shada, Karim, I never have to deal with anything like this from them! __**Why can't you be more like them?**__"_

_Seto only looked down in shame, very nearly in tears from the disgrace._

_"I would have gladly let you have a son." Atemu said, slightly calmer now. "I would have been eager to see you produce offspring. All you had to do was ask me. You could have given Isis your seed, produced a specimen of vast potential. Kemisi could have carried your child. Shebi, dozens of others, all women of worth and value! Women with something to offer your seed! They would have produced great children, children to be proud of, children you could show off to everyone! I would have been happy to let you have a son carried by them, and would love watching that child grow into a great priest one day!" He glanced back at Kisara, exhaling. "And this...this is what you have chosen?"_

_Seto again had nothing to say, fighting back tears. He had never cried in the presence of the Pharaoh, even when they were children._

_"How...how in the hell did you conceal her...her pregna-" He shook his head, letting Seto drop back down to the ground. "I-I don't want to know." He strode over to Kisara, ripping the bundle of blankets containing the child from her arms. She gasped as the baby continued to bawl madly. "I don't. Want. To know."_

_"S-sir, w-what are you-" Seto exclaimed, rushing forward to stand between Atemu and the exit to the room. _

_Atemu reached out and grabbed Seto's arm before he could block the direct route to the door. "I am purging this abomination from existence."_

_Kisara gave a strangled, horrible little scream as Seto held his hands out towards the man he served. "S-sir, please. I know you're furious with me, and you have every right to be so and I deserve it, but he's not even a year old!" He blubbered nervously, staring at his young child. "Please, be reasonable-"_

_"Reasonable?" Atemu repeated venomously, a string of spit flying from his mouth and landing on Seto's chest. "__**Reasonable?**__ You would talk to me about being reasonable after the way in which you have conducted yourself for Ra-knows how long?"_

_"Sir, he's a baby! Please, you can't-"_

_"Oh, I can. And I will!" He pushed Seto to the side, sending him to crash against his bedroom wall. _

_"Pharaoh Atemu, please, wait!" Seto cried as Atemu turned to glare at him with fiery eyes, pushing himself back up to his feet. "He's just a baby, please, let's talk about this-"_

_"This child is an insult to my reign. To my empire. My High Priest, creating spawn with some foreign slave girl." He grunted, taking a step toward the door. "I should have just killed her when I-"_

_Kisara threw herself off the edge of the bed, landing with a thud at Atemu's feet, wrapping her arms around his ankles. "Please, mighty Pharaoh! Don't!"_

_Atemu's nose wrinkled, Seto watching in some shock at her actions._

_"I see you've learned no respect for royalty." Atemu spat._

_"Mighty Pharaoh, I beg of you! Have a heart! He's just a baby!" She babbled, hugging his ankles tightly. "I'll do anything, just please spare him!"_

_He raised his right foot into the air, stomping on her right forearm. She whimpered as he pulled his feet from her grasp, taking quick steps toward the door._

_She wasted no time in jumping to her feet and sprinting to the doorway before he got there, throwing her arms out to the side to block his attempted exit. She stood steady for a second there, a look of determination on her face, but she wilted under the Pharaoh's glare and fell to her hands and knees in short order._

_"Mighty Pharaoh, please! Please! I beg of you, punish me instead! It's...it's my fault, I-"_

_"Oh, don't worry!" Atemu exclaimed. "I'm going to be right back for you! You think I'm going to let you get away with this? Oh no, you have disrespected the mercy I gave you when I spared your life, and I'm going to be right back to rectify that mistake! Now, out of my way."_

_She refused to budge, shaking in her pose of supplication._

_"Out of my way, you stupid brat." He hissed. _

_She didn't move._

_"Seto." He said through gritted teeth, the baby starting to cry himself out. "Get. Your whore. Out. Of my way." He demanded, voice shaking._

_Slowly, Seto staggered over to where she was kneeling, sorrow weighing heavy on his features as he approached her. Atemu watched in stony silence as he came to stand next to her. Seto started to reach down toward her right arm with his, the appendage shaking, inching closer and closer to her. _

_Breathing heavily, he was about to grab her wrist, but froze right before his fingers made contact with her skin. Atemu watched in silence, eyes wide in shock as he pulled back, unfurling back to stand straight. He turned to face the Pharaoh, tears dripping down his cheeks._

_"Sir. I'd like to apologize in advance for this." He said, looking down at the ground._

_For a brief moment, Atemu had the crazy notion that Seto was going to rush him and punch him in the face. That suspicion melted away when Seto instead slowly went down to one knee, then both, then put his palms on the ground in front of him. He had taken the pose of supplication, right next to his forbidden lover._

_Atemu would have preferred getting punched in the face._

_"Sir. Please." He wheezed out pathetically, a couple of drops of salty water hitting the carpet beneath his face. "Please. I'm...I'm begging you." He took in an uneven breath. "Please. Not my son."_

_Atemu's face, already the darkest red known to mankind, then did something it had never done before. Within that dark, angry red, blotches of purple began to spring up. He thought he had been as mad as possible a few minutes ago, but this had proven him wrong. Very, very wrong._

_"Get up." He forced out of his throat, his voice raspy and strangled from the unbridled rage._

_Seto refused, remaining in his humiliating position, eyes downcast._

_"Get. Up." He repeated, voice low and demonic, veins within his body threatening to burst._

_He didn't._

_All restraint leaving his body, he rushed forward and gave Seto a mighty kick on the left side of his stomach, toppling him to the ground. "GET - UP - YOU - STUPID - SNIVELLING - ASS!" He punctuated each word with another fierce kick to his midsection, drawing oomphs of pain from his High Priest._

_Slowly, Seto complied, raising up to a standing position, all six feet plus of him. Kisara remained where she was, willing herself to keep her head down even as she was dying to look up._

_"Sir. Please. I-I know I have sinned horribly, b-b-but...he's my son." He choked out, tears now freely streaming down his face that had nothing to do with the pain from being kicked several times. The baby had quieted himself now, tired from his crying fit and trying to get to sleep._

_Atemu only glared at Seto as the High Priest clasped his hands in front of his chin, giving the Pharaoh a wide eyed stare with puffy and red eyes. Sickeningly enough, it reminded him of the wide-eyed stare his kids would give as they begged him to let them stay up another half hour. He wanted to puke._

_"I'll do anything." He huffed, cheeks red and damp. "A-anything. Sir, please, spare my son and I swear to be a paragon of a High Priest for so long as I live." He glanced at Kisara's shaking, crouching figure, temporarily stemming his flow of tears with great effort. "I will never ask you for anything, ever again, if you grant me this. You will have never known a more grateful man than I, just p-please don't hurt my son."_

_Atemu glanced down at the tiny face in the bundle of blankets, then back to his High Priest. The purple left his face and the red began to dissapate as well. He stared at his High Priest for several seconds, inhaling and exhaling loudly, eyes still reflecting great anger. Kisara could no longer resist, and rose up to stare at the two._

_Seto continued to hold his hands up, clasped, in front of him, eyes wide._

_"If I kill him, you're never going to forgive me, are you?" Atemu grumbled, again glancing down at the tiny human face._

_Seto straightened up. "S-sir, I have sworn a lifetime of servitude to Egypt and the Pharaoh, and will abide by any and all decisions you make, and continue to serve you loyally, and-"_

_"That's not what I asked, now stop blubbering and answer the question. Honestly." Atemu glared at Seto's wide, fearful eyes._

_"W...well, I...I...I couldn't...I can't...that is to say, I-" Seto stuttered, looking around at the walls helplessly._

_"Answer the question." Atemu ordered._

_"...no sir. I...I suppose I won't." Seto winced at his words, blasphemous and worthy of punishment, but the truth._

_Atemu again glanced down at the tiny child, then back to Seto. He began to grumble under his breath. Seto's ears perked up, trying to make his words out, but could disern nothing of any meaning. Slowly, Atemu's mumbling got louder and louder, but continued to make no sense. He snarled and bared his teeth at his High Priest, face twitching._

_"AHHH!" He screamed, thrusting the protective pile of blankets toward Seto in his outstretched hands, his face again going dark red. Seto was frozen in disbelief for a second, but then took the bundle in his arms._

_"I...I spoil you, High Priest." Atemu seethed, again pressing himself up against Seto, holding his right finger up a half inch from Seto's nose. "I spoil you, so, so, __**sooo**__ much! You don't even know the half of it! Not even a tenth of it!" _

_Finally, Seto could no longer conceal his smile of relief. "Oh, almighty Pharaoh, tha-"_

_"Shut up!" He hissed, leaning in even closer, causing Seto to lean back slightly. "Shut. Up. I am tired of your jabbering. You want your son? Fine! FINE! He's all yours! Allll yours!" He spun and paced away from Seto, right hand up to his forehead. "This is entirely laughable, my father would be ashamed of me for permitting this!"_

_Kisara stared at the impossible scene in shock, still on her knees, jaw dropped in awe. Inspite of her pleading, inspite of all her efforts, she didn't actually think he was going to...do it. So great was her shock, relief had yet to settle in. She just stared in amazement._

_Atemu spun back around and marched back to Seto, again getting right up to him and pointing an accusing finger at his face. "Stop smiling. Stop. Smiling!" He ordered. Seto managed to tug his upturned lips back into a stony expression. "Now, understand this, High Priest. Understand this well. No one. And I do mean absolutely no one. Finds out about this...this complete and utter farce! If I hear a whisper of a rumor about this from anyone, I swear on my father's soul I will march right up here and skin all three of you alive! Do you get me?"_

_"Crystal clear, my Pharaoh." Seto nodded, struggling to keep his expression flat. "You have my word, no one will learn of his existence."_

_"None of this will affect your duties in the slightest. No exceptions, you are still, and always will be, my High Priest first." Atemu continued, his voice quaking slightly. "You will never even consider reducing the time or effort yout put into serving me for the benefit of this abomination that I'm allowing to live! Is that understood?"_

_"Yes, of course." Seto stared straight forward, across the room, still holding the young child in his arms. "Egypt has never known a High Priest who will work as hard as I will for the rest of my days."_

_"It had better." Atemu menaced, now raising his face so he was very nearly nose-to-nose with Seto. _

_Kisara finally broke into a delirious grin, the realization dawning on her that her son was really going to be spared. Her heart soared and she felt an enormous weight being lifted from her shoulders._

_"This is your last strike, High Priest! No more breaks! Ever! From now on, you put one toe out of line, I'm going to make it my life mission to ensure you regret you were ever born! You will hate your mother for giving birth to you! I swear it!" _

_"It would be better than I deserve if I was to disrespect the mercy you have displayed today, almighty Pharaoh." Seto responded, hair matting and sticking to his forehead with sweat._

_"That __**especially **__means, no more children." He pulled away from Seto slightly, but grabbed Seto's collar and yanked him forward so they were very nearly touching all the same. "You want a child, you come to me. You ask my permission. You have another child without my permission, and so help me Ra I'm going to __**neuter **__you."_

_"V-very fair, sir." Seto pushed his brown hair from his face as fast as he could, quickly dropping his hand back to the bundle._

_"I will tie you down and lop your pecker clean off! I'll do it myself to make sure it gets done right! And don't think I'm joking here, High Priest! Just try me, I dare you! I dare you! Give me a reason! I will lop it right off and feed it to one of Isis's cats!"_

_"Understood. No more kids." Seto fought with all his might to keep from cracking a smile at Atemu's insane ranting and raving._

_"And lastly, I never...__**never**__...want to see you conduct yourself in this way ever again." He snarled. "You have embarrassed yourself, and in turn embarrassed me, with your actions today. You will never cry, you will never beg, you will never humiliate yourself as you did today! Is that clear?"_

_"I apologize most deeply for embarrassing you today, and swear you will never see such degrading acts from me ever again." Seto answered._

_He let Seto go, walking into the middle of the room, still shaking with fury. His temples were very nearly pulsing. "I do not know what possesses me to spoil you so." He scowled at him. "It ends, right here, forever." He voice was low and raspy, barely audible. "I am __**dead**__ serious, High Priest. One toe out of line, and I promise, I will flay you to within an __**inch**__ of your life." He held up his right hand, thumb and forefingers separated by what looked to be considerably less than an inch._

_Finally, he sat down on the bench at the foot of Seto's bed, back hunched and face pointed toward the ground. His hands went up to cover his face again, fingers massaging his forehead._

_There was a long pause, Atemu hunched over as if he was exhausted now. "...I'll...i'll send one of the slaves up to assist in caring for the child from now on." He grumbled. "You'll be...you'll be working a lot, you'll need someone to keep an eye on him." He sat down on the bench at the edge of Seto's bed, looking down at the floor. "It'll be a woman. See to it that she never tells anyone about any of this." He put his hands back at his side, the look of a defeated, tired man on his face._

_Seto bobbed his head up and down quickly. Atemu raised his head up, spying a still red-cheeked and teary-eyed, but nevertheless grinning Kisara. He caught his second wind, jumping up and marching toward her. He grabbed the collar of her slave robe and lifted her up, their faces just inches apart._

_"And...and you...__**you**__...you know, Seto used to be a good, loyal, obedient priest. He served me well, never caused any problems...and then you showed up. You ruined him. Now he can hardly get enough blood to his brain because it's all flowing into his cock." Seto somehow managed to stiffle a laugh, feeling Atemu would not appreciate it right now. "And it's YOUR FAULT!" Kisara's grin had faded, eyes now darting around in uncertainty. After all, he had said nothing about sparing her..._

_"I should slice your stomach open right here and just be done with you." He snapped through gritted teeth. "Spill your insides right onto the carpet."_

_She glanced down at the three inch, thin, golden dagger in the Pharaoh's belt, then back up to Atemu's face. She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply, mentally accepting her fate and finding solace in the fact that at least her son would live._

_"But I guess I'm just going to have to let you live, aren't I? So, you're just going to have to be the most obedient, hard working little slave Egypt has ever seen, for so long as you draw breath, to pay me back. __**Are my terms acceptable?**__" He said the last four words with as much venom and malice as could be heaped into a short sentence, spewing saliva all over Kisara's face._

_As another flood of relief hit her, she could hardly think straight. Her emotions overtook all logical processes in her brain, and she did something unthinkable. There were only about two inches between her face and Atemu's, so it was easy for her to wrap her arms around his neck and pull closer to give him a big kiss, right on the lips._

_She gave a loud moan as their lips locked. Atemu's eyes were wide in complete and utter shock, so taken aback he didn't even push her away. Seto's jaw dropped several inches at the sight._

_With a loud smack of the lips, she pulled away, falling back to her knees and embracing Atemu's legs in a hug. The Pharaoh remained frozen to the spot, staring at Kisara in disbelief, mouth agape._

_"Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou-thankyou!" She rushed out of her mouth, hugging his legs so tightly circulation of blood was becoming an issue. "Oh, wise, kind, merciful Pharaoh Atemu, you are truly the-"_

_Snapping back to reality, he grabbed her robe's collar with his right hand, ripped her away from his legs, and gave her a violent backhand slap with his left hand. She fell to the ground, palms reaching up to the welt on her cheek, a huge smile still on her face inspite of it._

_Atemu stomped back over to Seto, who was still holding the infant. He brought his right foot down on Seto's left one, stomping on it with all the force he could muster. Seto winced, leaning forward slightly and grimacing in pain, fighting the urge to yelp._

_"I am going to go to my room, order a slave to come down here, and then I am going to forget I saw anything of this." He said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I do not want to be reminded. Ever."_

_With that, he marched out of the large wooden doors, slamming it shut as hard as he could behind him, the loud bang echoing through the palace and shaking some of the wall decorations._

_Atemu stood outside, hands balled into tight fists at his sides, still shaking with anger as he listened intently._

_"Hm. I do believe Pharaoh Atemu hit you with his left hand." He heard Seto say from within the chamber._

_"What does that mean?" Kisara asked._

_"He's right handed." Seto chuckled. "Means he likes you."_

_Atemu had half a mind to storm back in and beat both of them senseless, but settled for stomping out of Seto's workroom as loud as he could, grabbing a vase near the center of the room and flinging it into the opposite wall, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces._

""""

"I got back to my bedroom, made arrangements for the surrogate mother to be put in place...and I tried to forget the whole thing." Atemu nodded to himself, amused by the memory he had buried. "I drank so much beer that week. Took my anger out on dozens of harem girls. I just...I just wanted to forget it. Wipe it from my mind. I never really forgot. I let it go eventually. I probably gave Seto the cold shoulder for a good three months first." He shrugged. "But, he held up his end of the bargain. I couldn't have asked for a better High Priest. No one ever found out about his dirty secrets. And now that I think about it, he never asked me for anything." He licked his lips. "So, there we go."

"He begged for my life?" Seto's son wrinkled his forehead in thought. "You mean to tell me that my father actually got down on his hands and knees and begged you to spare me?"

"He was a proud man. Very proud. Very dignified, never showed weakness...but for you, he begged. He would have done anything to save you. He couldn't even bring himself to beg to save Kisara when I was going to have her killed, but...for you, he sunk to the level of a peasant."

"How...disappointing." The captive teen gave a sour look.

"He did it because he loved you." Atemu looked up at the chained youth. "Even at that young age, he loved you so much, he was willing to risk everything for you."

"And mighty Pharaoh Atemu doesn't quite manage to live up to the legend." He added, smirking at the forty-three year old. "I've read much of your exploits. The cruel, heartless warmonger who wants to take over the entire world and beat a bloody trail as he does so. I would not have such a man pegged to give in to such pathetic pleading."

"Sometimes I didn't want to admit it, but...I cared for your father very much. He was my cousin, but was like a brother to me when we were growing up. And he was my best friend at the same time. And as a High Priest, I would have had no other." Atemu played his right hand through his hair. "He meant a lot to me. When he got down on the ground and begged so pitifully, and cried like a woman, it didn't just infuriate me." He heft a great sigh. "It...it made me sad. I didn't want to see him so miserable and desperate. I just couldn't bring myself to take the son he loved so much from him, not after seeing him degrade himself like that."

"Well...I guess I should thank you for that." Seto's son said grudgingly. "I...I owe you my life."

Atemu nodded. "What's your name?"

"Wati." He answered, looking up at his shackles.

"Well Wati, I have many more questions of you, but it's getting late." He stood up, pulling a bronze key out from his breast pocket. "Go on and pay your respects to your father, and I'll have you escorted straight home when you're done. Your mother must be worried sick-"

"She's no longer capable of such emotions." Wati interrupted, glaring up at the Pharaoh. "She...she passed this morning."

Atemu's face fell, eyes falling to the stone floor. "I saw her just a couple days ago, she looked fine-"

"Well, she wasn't." Wati cut in. "Near as I could tell, it was in her sleep. Real peaceful."

"I'm sorry." Atemu grimaced, a small pit developing in his stomach.

"It's for the better." Wati grunted. "All she did ever since the move was sit around and mope and cry. She was miserable. I'd say that killed her more than anything else."

Atemu reached up and stuck the key into a large hole in the cuff, releasing the tab that held the half-rings together. Wati lowered his hands, shaking them around, trying to get blood flow back into them.

"She didn't have much in this world outside of my father." Wati continued. "Don't think she saw much purpose in staying here with him gone."

"She had you." Atemu pointed out, sitting back down in the wooden chair.

Slowly, Wati slid down the back wall of the chamber, coming to a sitting position on the dank floor of the dungeon, legs crossed. "She did." He nodded. "She said she had raised me the best she could. Said she was real proud of me. Said she loved me. My father had trained me in the arts of being a priest in his spare time, she told me to go to the temple. She was sure I could make High Priest one day. Told me to head straight there if anything happened to her, never tell anyone my true identity. I think she knew she wasn't much longer for this world."

"Is that where you'll be heading next?" Atemu looked at the door to the room, then back to Wati.

"I was planning on it." He shrugged. "I wanted to walk around and see Egypt for a couple weeks first. I spent the first fourteen plus years of my life in my room. I was never allowed to leave my room, not once. I tried everything."

"You're already well-prepared for the life of a priest." Atemu joked dryly. "Just explain to me one thing. Kisara left the palace alone. I saw it with my own eyes, and I have multiple witnesses who will agree that there was no teenaged male with her when she left."

"She told me we couldn't be seen together." Wati answered. "She said I couldn't be seen period. She smuggled me guard robes and a map of the palace, said to find my own way out and find her after she had left."

"She didn't have to do that." Atemu remarked.

"Apparently, she took your instructions to not ever remind you of my existence very seriously." Wati pursed his lips.

"And I assume you snuck in the same way?" Atemu looked down at his slippers, tapping the left one lightly.

He nodded. "I took the robes off in the tomb. I was careless, got spotted." He grimaced at the memory.

"Well, I'm convinced." Atemu stood up, extending his right hand toward Wati, palm open. "No son of Seto is getting stuck in those pathetic little closets they call housing in the temple. You'll be living in the palace from now on."

Wati stared at the hand for a second before reaching up to take it, giving a firm handshake. Atemu lifted him to his feet.

"If Seto trained you personally, that's good enough for me. We'll run through some aptitude tests and see where you stand." Atemu bounced up on his toes for a second, feeling genuine excitement.

"Thank you, uncle." Wati bobbed his head up and down slightly.

"However, there's a little matter of respect." Atemu said sternly. "There's no excuse for the disrespect you showed me today. I am the Pharaoh, and you will treat me as such. I will expect you to bow to me, talk respectfully when you are in my presence, and address me properly. Sir or Pharaoh. Do not call me uncle."

"Yes sir." Wati bowed his head.

"And I expect an apology for your rude behavior today." Atemu added.

Though there was some clear trepidation in his motions, Wati did fall to one knee and bow his head before the Pharaoh. "I offer my apologies for my poor manners and lack of respect today."

"Accepted." Atemu smiled as Wati rose back up. "Now, you go on and say whatever it is you'd like to say in your father's tomb. I'll have a couple guards retrieve Kisara's body so we can bury her right. And then you'll be taken to your new room."

"Yes sir." Wati stood at attention, hands behind his back. Atemu had seen such a stance from a similar looking man so many times. "I am...grateful for your generosity."

He turned and walked over to the metal door, pushing a small lever near the handle up before pushing it open. He took a couple steps out.

He glanced to his left and found Isis, standing with her body pressed up to the wall just to the right of the door, arms folded across her chest. Atemu looked her up and down, brow wrinkled in confusion.

At that very moment, Wati stepped around the Pharaoh and made a dash for the hallway that would lead back up to the main level of Atemu's palace, footsteps padding across the floor as Isis and Atemu watched his back disappear around a corner.

Isis stared at the spot where he had been for several seconds, then looked back up at the man she now served as his most trusted advisor.

"My apologies, my Pharaoh. I appear to be going very senile, perhaps my eyes have gone bad. But I believe I just saw our intruder sprint from the chamber, running upstairs, free as a bird." She deadpanned.

"That about sums it up." Atemu said coyly, starting to walk toward the hallway Wati had just disappeared down.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or am I going to have to beg?" Isis asked sarcastically, taking up a trot right behind the Pharaoh.

Atemu snorted. Had he not known for a fact that the chamber he had just been in was thoroughly soundproofed, he would have guessed Isis had eavesdropped on the entire conversation.

"I will literally die of curiosity tonight if you don't tell me." Isis joked, walking up to the side of the Pharaoh and looking up at his face. "I will be dead in the morning."

"Well Isis. For starters, I should say that the dearly departed Seto had some deep, dark secrets."

""""

"An affair with a peasant girl." Isis licked her lips, looking down at the peaceful corpse of Kisara, laid out on the floor in Atemu's workroom. "I'll be damned."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Atemu was seated on his desk chair, looking down at the lifeless body of the former slave, happy that her death had been so tranquil.

"You think you know somebody...incredible." She smirked, looking the foreign girl over from her spot, leaning against one of the shelves lining the room's walls. "Nice to know this empire is as gender biased as ever."

"What're you talking about?" Atemu asked, even though he tasted the playfulness in her voice.

"Had I even looked at a man at any point during my service to you, you would have had me spayed." She said, shooting Atemu a coy smirk.

"I was very close to making him a eunuch." Atemu chuckled. "I would have removed the thing personally. Fed it to one of your cats."

"They'd never touch the foul thing." She joked, approaching the body. "I guess, no matter what, you men are just incapable of controlling that thing between your legs."

"Seto's record had...one or two blemishes." He shrugged. "I'm willing to overlook them all things considered."

"I really wish I had known this while he was alive." She remarked, bending down next to the body and rubbing her bare left leg. "High Priest Seto, in love with a pale skinned peasant girl. He would have never heard the end of it. I would have been merciless."

"Well. Now you know." He shrugged. "Soon, I suppose I'll have to make it public. I'll live with the black mark on my reign, I think I've earned myself a free pass on one of those."

"Nephew Wati, come to live in the palace." She nodded thoughtfully. "Should be interesting."

"The god-blood runs through his veins." He pointed out. "Seto had it, so does he. I don't know how much of it got through the union with...well..." he glanced down at Kisara's body "...well, it's there."

"It should be interesting." Isis stood back up. "I should retire for the night."

"Yes." Atemu stood up. "Call some guards in here, have them transport the body downstairs. We'll do this the right way. I'll have her buried next to Seto after the mummification."

""""

Atemu lay in his bed, underneath the blankets, on the right side of the mattress. He stared at the empty left side, the soft sound of his breathing the only noise in the room.

"Peace." He said under his breath, seemingly to himself. "After all of this bloodshed and violence...we're finally going to have peace." He gave a small smile that faded as quickly as it had showed. "Yes. Peace. Fifteen years too late." He rolled over to look up at the ceiling, wondering how long he had been laying there, awake. "Twenty-five years too late." He corrected bitterly. "I wish you could be here to see it. It's going to be beautiful."

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the pillow, moaning softly. "You would have loved it." He tugged the blankets up to his chin. "You would be laying right over there, beaming, talking about how happy you were and how proud you were of me." He winced at his cruel thoughts of what could have been. "You would have read my treaty a hundred times over, basking in it, telling me how you wish it could have been for a thousand years. I would have told you it may as well be ten thousand after I was done. I would have told you I may have ended war amongst mankind forever."

He felt his eyes start to water. He swallowed down hard.

"I would have given you a foot massage. You would have given me a back rub. We would have made love, all night, like adolescents. You would have been the happiest woman in all the world. You would have." He rolled back over to look at the empty half of the bed. "You would have spent all day talking to Ammon about how amazing peace was going to be, about how he would have the easiest reign in the history of Pharaohs."

A single salty tear dripped down his face, landing to soak in the pillow.

"It's so unfair." He closed his eyes again. "So unfair that you can't be here to see this."

He slammed his head a few times against his pillow.

"I'd give it all up for you to be able to see this." He said wistfully. "All of the land I've taken in the last twenty five years. I'd give it back for free, in a heartbeat, just so you could be here to see what I've done. So you could lay there, beaming, talking about how happy you are and how proud you are of me."

Exhaustion slowly claimed him, as he was forced into a slumber by the activities of the day.

"That's exactly what you would do." He whispered. "But you're not."


	3. Far from the Tree

Chapter Three: Far from the Tree

"Let's have a look at this list." Isis asked, seated on the small chair on the other side of Atemu's Mahogany workdesk, Atemu naturally taking the main one.

"Um, first we had...cut taxes. Me and Seto discussed eliminating them entirely, I was a little concerned about that." Atemu looked down at the parchment on the desk in front of him, an indented, organized list inked onto it. "We ended up with a ninety-five percent cut in taxes. Y'know, I figure if we eliminate them entirely, it's going to be hard to bring them back in the future. Eventually we will run short on gold, we will need some form of taxation."

"Ninety-five percent sounds good." Isis nodded. "We'll let your...great-great...-great-grandson or whoever worry about raising it when the gold runs low."

"Enhance defenses, obviously." Atemu rubbed his forehead. "I think we should build a wall around the new borders. A big one. We were thinking...six feet thick, thirty feet tall, ten foot deep foundation. He talked about having it re-enforced with steel, maybe a foot of it in the middle or something. I mean, that's pretty bold, but Seto thought it was important. He wanted archer huts every ten feet, stocked with weapons, he wanted oil cauldrons...he wanted everything."

"I hope you earmarked a hefty budget." Isis leaned forward, hands on the desk.

The Pharaoh nodded grimly. "We didn't define a budget, couldn't quite put a finger on what it would need to be. We'll spend whatever it takes. Next, we had...he wanted to put a billion gold debens worth into the public school system. He thinks commoners should have a basic understanding of things beyond just their field of work."

Isis beamed at him. "Listen to you. It's almost as if armies and battles are the last thing on your mind. Your parents, rest their souls, would be so proud of this."

Atemu nodded wistfully. "This is a big one here, the slums and ghettos. We thought they all need to be completely redone. He thought that...we might be able to end poverty. I thought that might have been a little too high of a goal, but he talked me into it. There's no reason why any Egyptian shouldn't be able to put food on the table and a roof over their head. Now that's a huge project, hard to put a pricetag on that."

Isis nodded enthusiastically. "This is...this is all very good, I like all of it."

"Then he went on to...hospitals, another billion there, half to expanding hospitals and the other half to research. Uh...we had half a billion to agriculture, half a billion to livestock...I think that covers it pretty well. Obviously we'll put some into the army, but if the wall is good enough we hardly need it."

"It's a magnificent plan." Isis continued to beam. "You've outdone even yourself, my Pharaoh."

He picked the parchment off the table, extending his right hand out toward her. She took it.

"Could you distribute that to the relevant individuals? I want all of that to go into effect the moment I've auctioned off the lands."

She nodded, standing up and bowing. "Immediately, sir."

"Oh...and could you send a guard to escort Ammon here?" He asked cautiously.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, smile falling.

"I...I just want to talk with him." He replied, rubbing his forehead again. "It's just...he's going to become Pharaoh very soon, and I need to be frank with him about some things first."

Isis frowned. "With your peace treaty and all of these plans for the new budget, a passive Pharaoh would be ideal. Ammon is the perfect Pharaoh to pioneer this new age of civilization you've designed."

Atemu gave a quick sigh. "I know, I know...in a perfect world, Ammon would make the perfect Pharaoh. But the world isn't perfect. What if something goes south during his reign and he has to make some tough decisions? I mean, I could build a wall ten feet thick and a hundred feet tall, but things can still happen."

"I'm sure in the event of disaster, your son will be perfectly fine." Isis insisted. "All you can do is work to prevent such a disaster from occuring, the rest is up to him."

"That's what concerns me." Atemu looked down sadly. "I...I need to talk to him."

She pursed her lips, but nodded all the same. "Very well." Isis turned to leave. "I'll have him brought here."

""""

Atemu stared at his son, sitting opposite him on the chair Isis had sat on moments before. Arms crossed and right cheek sucked inside of his teeth, Atemu considered his son. He had inherited his father's good looks, that he could clearly see. Tall and well-built, he had the physical look of a Pharaoh to be sure.

"Did you call me in here to stare at me?" Ammon asked dryly.

"Son...you could have any woman you want. Any woman in the world." Ammon rolled his eyes, but he pressed on. "You could...you could hop in a carriage right now, go on a cross-country trek across the entire civilized earth, look at every single woman, point at any of them and say you'd like her to be your bride...and she would be. She would fall to her knees and weep in joy. Any woman in the world. You do understand that, right?"

"You called me in here to tell me that?" Ammon shot, glaring at his father. "Thanks?"

"I'm just saying, you don't have to settle-"

"I am not settling." Ammon spat, scowling. "What's...what's your problem? What's your problem with Mana?"

"I...I have no problem with Mana." Atemu swallowed. "I am merely saying that you could have any woman."

"I know." Ammon glared to his left, arms still folded tightly. "And I don't love any of them like I do Mana."

Atemu sighed, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. "I know...I know...look, I'm sorry, it's just that-"

"I don't understand you, father." He grunted. "Mana is beautiful, intelligent, kind, sweet...she served you loyally for fifteen years...she even has her own palace. I don't even have my own palace. She's lived among royalty most of her life, it's not like I'm plucking some girl off the streets barefoot and broke."

"She was once that." Atemu noted offhand.

"It doesn't matter. She's a wonderful woman, and you know it. Everything I just said about her, you know, all of it. You have never given me a single reason why I shouldn't marry her-"

"I never said there was a reason why you shouldn't marry her-"

"Dad." Ammon grimaced. "Cut the crap. We both know it. You don't want me to marry her. But you won't tell me why."

Atemu glanced up at the ceiling. "I'd...I'd rather not say."

"Well I'd rather not give a crap what you think." Ammon replied coldly. "I'm...I'm sorry, but I love her. I'm sorry you don't understand, you couldn't. You've never really loved a woman, loved a woman the way I love Mana-"

"D-don't say that." Atemu put his face in his hands, sighing. "That's not true. That's not true, I loved your mother-"

"Yeah, you loved her so much you had her killed." Atemu dropped his hands to the desk, glaring up at his son. "Yeah dad. I know. I know you think I'm stupid, but I'm not. I'm not that stupid at least."

Atemu closed his eyes, pursing his lips tightly.

"Ammon-"

"I don't want to hear it." His son growled, standing up. "I'm sure you had your...your reasons, and I'm sure they made sense in that screwed up head of yours. I don't want to hear it."

He looked up at his son. "Does your sister know?"

Ammon looked down at the carpet. "I don't think so. At least I haven't told her. I haven't told anyone. They wouldn't believe me. But I've always known. I lived in denial about it for a long time, but...I've known." He looked back up. "Are you going to have me killed now?"

"Ammon, I'm sorry." He exhaled deeply. "I'd...I'd give anything to take it back, not a day goes by when I don't wish I could-"

"Well that makes it all better, doesn't it?" he said sarcastically. "You assassinated your own wife in cold blood. Such a man could never know love the way I do with Mana."

"I did love her." Atemu said, voice starting to fail him. "V-very much. I'm sorry, I did...I did something terrible, something I never should have done. I...I wish I could go back, make it right. Every day, I wish I could just go back and make it right."

"Well, you can't." He turned to the door. "I'm going to marry her. If you don't want to give me your blessing, then...well, I'll live."

Atemu looked down, shaking his head. "I don't think you're stupid."

"Could've fooled me." Ammon replied bitterly.

"I'm...I'm doing this all for you, you know." The Pharaoh gestured at the assorted papers on his brown desk. "This...this peace, this territory auction, I'm trying to make this easy for you. It's all for you."

Ammon exhaled sharply, then turned back around. "No it's not. You're doing this to make yourself feel better."

Atemu darted his eyes around the room quickly, nostrils flaring. "Okay. Okay, fine! You're right! I'm brokering a worldwide peace for me. All for me, entirely selfish reasons. Sure, whatever. Think...think whatever you want, it doesn't matter. The point is, it's going to happen. Within the next two moon cycles, I'm going to hand you the throne. We're not talking about...someday or in a couple years here. As soon as I feel comfortable with the implementation of new policies after the auction, I'm stepping down."

"I-I know." Ammon rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What are you getting at?"

"You're going to become the most powerful man on the planet. The mortal extension of the gods. The vessel through which they dictate the course of mankind. And I'm going to be the one to hand you that responsibility, I want to know that you're going to do the right things when the difficult decisions come." Atemu stared pleadingly at his son.

Ammon closed his eyes and shook his head. "Do...do all Pharaohs do this to their sons at some point? Or am I just an idiot? Am I special?"

"Look, it's...the things I've seen, the things I've done...what I know...you should, I would hope, try to draw on that. I wish I had taken more from my father, even with everything I've done." He pushed the loose strands of hair out of his face. "It's not that I want to make you unhappy, there's a reason why I say the things that I say. Even if I don't explain everything to you, I wish you'd at least have faith in the fact that the reasons are good. So when I say that there's a reason why you shouldn't marry Mana-"

"Dad." Ammon held his hand up, palm out, by the side of his face, turning back around. "Dad, I'm...I'm not having this conversation with you right now."

The Pharaoh pursed his lips tightly, looking around the room as if in search of help. "My son, he hates me." Ammon began a quick trek across the workroom, toward the exit door opposite Atemu. The elder man sighed, covering the upper half of his face with his right hand. "He really does, he...he hates me. I, I can't believe it." He shook his head as Ammon paused at the door.

"I don't hate you, dad." Ammon looked back at his father, his expression still tight and frustrated. "I...I dread you."

With that, he pushed through the door and shut it behind him, leaving the Pharaoh to continue looking at the walls for the invisible parental advisor that would never show up.

""""

"He's difficult." Atemu set his fig back down on his gold plate, looking across the small, two-person, round marble table at his lovely daughter. "I wish he could channel that fiery hatred he has for me towards passion for being Pharaoh."

"He doesn't hate you." Asenath insisted, holding a date between her right thumb and forefinger, eyes on her father. "How could he hate you?"

Atemu sighed, taking a bite out of his honeyed bread slice. "Me and him, we are so different. My father used to tell me that our family line always produced men cut from a similar mold. Able to delicately balance all the emotions that have to go into leading Egypt. So many generations of men, he said they were all...good men. Tough, but fair. Masculine, confident, daring, adaptable, wise..." he smirked inwardly. "I told my father he was crazy. Said me and him were nothing alike. He said he was a lot like me when he was my age, he grew into the man he ended up being. As did his father and his father before him."

"Well there you go then. Ammon still has time to grow." Asenath comforted, reaching across the table and touching Atemu's left hand with her right.

"This is different." He picked a stick of celery from the plate. "He's...he's nothing like I was when I was that age. My father said, as different as we were, he could spot the seed in me. Said there was always the seed of the man you become later. I was...I was always confident in everything I did. I carried myself like a Pharaoh. I don't know what he carries himself like, but...have you seen the way he acts around Mana?" He massaged his forehead. "It's...embarrassing."

She gave a little giggle. "I'd be flattered if a man behaved that way in my presence."

"Well, they should." He said gruffly. "You're a princess of Egypt, you're beautiful, you're...you're everything. You're the most desirable woman in the world. And my son, my son should be the most desirable man, but he...he carries on like a lovesick romantic apprenticed to a blacksmith, wooing some merchant's daughter, it's maddening." He slid the plate to the edge of the table, planting his forehead on the marble surface. "Is it really going to be my seed that destroys the family lineage?"

"He's a good boy, he'll be fine." She leaned toward him, giving a warm, comforting smile.

"They are going to beat the _crap_ out of me in the afterlife." He moaned, rocking his head back and forth on the table. "_What the hell, Atemu? Is that your son or your daughter on the throne?_"

"Hey!" she said playfully, smacking the Pharaoh's hand.

"I can see it now." He looked up, smiling inspite of his somber talk. "But...enough on that. Let's talk about...peace."

"It's going to be wonderful." She smiled again. "Mother used to talk about peace. I was very young then, I only remember vague emotions and general statements. But I remember peace."

Atemu cast his eyes down guiltily, nodding with a quick headbob. "It is a travesty she can't be here to see this."

"Wherever she is, I'm sure she's very happy." She remarked.

This did nothing to comfort Atemu, given what he knew about Teana. Anubis had no doubt condemned her to suffer as much pain as he could inflict on a mortal, so horrible was her crime. Once, that thought had made him feel better, a solace of comfort. Now, it caused nothing but the burning sensation of guilt.

"Yes." he said quietly. "You deserve to be princess of a kingdom at peace." He took both of her hands in his, clasping them together over the table. "All these years you sat in the palace of a kingdom at war, it was a sin. A horrible, terrible sin. A sin I am at fault for, and one I now hope to atone for."

"They were hardly beating down on the palace walls." She said, leaning forward to kiss Atemu's wrinkled hands.

"It doesn't matter. Egypt will build you a grand, impenetrable wall, through which no enemy force can even dream of attacking through, and you will spend the rest of your long, healthy life never even considering the possibility of violence and bloodshed. I will eliminate crime, poverty, disease, everything that stains this world with an evil presence, I will cast out in my final act as Pharaoh." Atemu's eyes glazed over, a smile crossing his face. "The gods want the mortal earth to be a perfect utopia, you know. They just want us to earn it. And I will earn it, for everyone. For you."

She nodded happily.

""""

"Well, he's his father's son." Mahad remarked, handing Atemu a small stack of parchment. Mahad was seated on the edge of his bed, a wooden cane of carved oak laying on the mattress next to him. Quite suddenly, his eyes widened and he hastily made to stand up, grunting in some pain.

"Sit down." Atemu insisted, motioning with his hand back toward the bed, standing just off to the side of the bed. "I insist."

"Thank you, my Pharaoh." Mahad quickly eased himself back into a sitting position, hands on his knees. "My apologies, the doctors said I shouldn't be-"

"It's not for a lack of respect." Atemu comforted him. "I want you well again."

They both then turned to look at Wati, standing at attention with his back to the door, face an emotionless slate.

"They ran him through multiple types of intelligence tests down in the library." Mahad recalled, looking at the youth. "His scores on all of them are in the top twelve, at least, all-time in the scholar's archives for a fourteen year old. Very smart."

"How did you come across all of this knowledge?" Atemu looked the papers over quickly, taking in only bits and pieces of the information, knowing Mahad would run down relevant data.

"I spent more than fourteen years locked in my room." Wati recalled, still clearly a tad bitter. "Nothing to do in there but read most of the time."

"I ran him through some priest tests, he's got the theory down pat. If Seto's blood really does run through his veins, he could be a great one."

Atemu smiled. "At ease." Wati relaxed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You done with him then?"

"He's done all the tests, passed everything with flying colors." Mahad scratched the top of his head. "We ran him through some physical exams as well, he's a specimen."

"Lots of weightlifting in that room growing up?" Atemu asked. A glare of annoyance crossed Wati's face for a split second but quickly left.

"You might say that. I ran a lot of laps around my bed." Wati smiled wryly.

"He could be a general, a scholar, an elite priest, a businessman...just about anything he wants if these tests indicate anything." Mahad shrugged. "Personally I'd jump at the chance to make him my apprentice."

"I've already been taught by the best." Wati said coolly. "You can be _my_ apprentice, how about that?"

Atemu chuckled, stepping forward to clasp him on the shoulder. "Be careful now, Mahad is a very powerful and very good priest in his own right."

"My father was better." He responded, shooting a glance at Mahad. Atemu glanced back at his aged priest, who simply shrugged.

"I'll leave you to sleep." Atemu spun Wati toward the door, hand still on his shoulder. "Let's take a walk."

""""

"I have made...a rather pitiful effort to keep my inner circle well-stocked." The pair were walking through the large, grand hallways of Atemu's palace now, torches lighting the marble walls at every turn. "Many of my trusted advisors, my most powerful priests have passed over the years and I never could bring myself to replace them. There are many reasons for it. I did not feel I could adequately replace my childhood friends. To have someone so much younger than me on the inner circle would be strange. I didn't see the point. It simply never happened, and now I am down to two people that I truly trust."

Wati just looked at all of the wall decorations, listening as he took in the lavish ornaments. He hadn't been in this part of the palace quite yet.

"But you...you of god blood, you of Seto's lineage, you are someone I would welcome into my trusted circle." Atemu again clapped him on the back with his right hand. "So, how about I cut through some of the traditional procedures and get you right up to full priesthood, with special priviledges to live in the palace?"

"I would appreciate that very much, my Pharaoh." Wati stated, looking at a large oil paiting of Atemu's great grandfather as they passed on down the halls.

"Now, I probably shouldn't be saying this, but...given who you are, I'll just go ahead. If I like what I see, before I step down, I'll place you in the inner circle. A final gift to my son, a truly potent priest to advise him. You can learn from Isis and Mahad before they pass on, and son you'll be high priest. You will be at the head of a youth movement within that circle as my son brings in others. If you show some real potential over this next moon or so, I will make you high priest." He guided him around a corner, arm out dramatically in front of him. "You will be the second most powerful man in the world, just like your father was. We haven't known each other very long, but I've seen enough. This feels right, it makes sense, why else would you have appeared to me when you did?"

"So you really intend to step down?" He asked, lips pursed.

"Well...well yes. Pass it on to my son." Atemu cleared his throat. "It's tradition to keep on the members of your father's inner circle until they die or retire, I'm sure my son will gladly accept you, and there's no doubt in my mind you will be high priest after Isis is gone."

"Yes sir. I will not disappoint you. My abilities will be put on full display over the next moon." Wati said, the pair approaching another turn.

"Good, good, I'll have you-"

They took the turn at the same time as another was taking the turn from the other side, his movements rushed and chaotic. So the figure flew into the hallway, colliding with Wati, sending him falling back to the floor. The rushing man fell over into a heap against the opposite wall, Atemu stepping back to observe the collision.

"Hey!" Wati jumped up, fists at the ready. "Watch it!"

"S-sorry." The second man said, looking up from the floor. It was Ammon, his eyes quickly going from his father to Wati. "W-wait." Wati approached the prince, face twisted into a scowl and fists still held up. "Who the hell are you?" Ammon spat.

"I'm the guy who knows how to walk! You must be the other guy." Wati retorted as Ammon pushed himself back up.

"Hey, you know who you're talking to?" Ammon hissed, coming into an upright position. Atemu simply stood there and watched the scene, noting that the two were about the same height even though Wati still had years of growing to do. "The guy you're talking to?" He pointed at his father. "I'm his son. I'm the prince. Kinda a big deal, you know?"

Wati only stood there, now folding his arms over his chest, looking entirely unimpressed by the prince.

"W-who are you? Some...servant boy being shown the areas you're going to mop at night?" He looked around at the hall. "Well, make sure you get the corners real good or they'll stick you in the stocks and whip you raw, now if you'll excuse me-"

He tried to push past the fourteen year old, but Wati would have none of it. He reached up and grabbed Ammon by the collar, lifting him up a few inches by it.

"You take that back, right now." Wati hissed. "I'm not-"

"Put him down." Atemu said sternly, leaning against the left wall.

Slowly, Wati set him back down on the floor, letting go of his robes. But he immediately thrust his finger into Ammon's face after he was back on ground level. "Take it back."

"Oh. Oh, I know who you are." Ammon said suddenly, backing up and looking the youth over a few times. "Oh yeah, you're Seto's bastard child."

Wati flinched at the word, hands balling up into fists at his sides.

"Yeah, you're the unholy spawn of Seto's...what do you call it...sordid affair with a slave girl?" He gave a cruel smirk. "Man, that must suck, being a _bastard_ child of such a screwed up relationship. I mean, you shouldn't even exist, your mere existence is a black spot on mankind! How...how does that feel?" He got up closer to the now seething Wati. "How does it feel to be a _bastard-_"

Ammon caught a mean right hook square in the jaw from Wati, sending him crashing to the floor, red mark on his cheek. Wati bent down with intention to pick him up and continue the fight, but Atemu grabbed his shoulder. Wati turned to look at the Pharaoh.

"I'm standing right here." Atemu monotoned, shooting both of them glares. Ammon rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing the red welt on his cheek.

"Yeah, and you heard what he said!" Wati yelled, pointing at the prince.

"All of it the truth." Ammon said dryly, turning around and starting to walk away.

"I will not have my son and my nephew quarrelling like two peasant boys fighting over the last bowl of pudding." Atemu said matter-of-factly. "Now, I want both of you to shake hands and apologize."

"Yeah, right." Ammon muttered, turning the corner back the way he came, disappearing into another hall. _"Bastard..._"

Wati made to break from the Pharaoh's grasp and chase after the prince, but Atemu pulled him back.

"Priests do not resort to violence unless it is absolutely necessary." Atemu spun the youth around to face him.

"You heard what he said!" He pointed down the hallway. "What do you want me to do?"

"To ignore him, as should a priest." Atemu said seriously, glancing down the hall where his son had disappeared. "I'm not defending him, but to be a priest is to see the big picture. Those insults mean nothing to anyone, anywhere, at any time."

Slowly, Wati nodded. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Atemu patted the top of his head, having to reach up a little to do so. "I apologize for my son, he's usually nothing like that. I _wish_ he was that fiery all the time, but he's not like that."

"You want me to serve him?" Wati asked, eyes wide and a smirk on his face. "That little weasel? I'm supposed to advise and take orders from him?"

"I'm sure he'll be looking for you tomorrow to apologize, he probably feels bad already. He's actually a real nice guy, passive, doesn't want to hurt anyone. He's...he's just mad at me right now. He...he saw me and took it out on you. He didn't mean any of it." Atemu insisted, straightening Wati's robes out.

"I don't know which one I'd rather serve." Wati remarked, pushing the hair off of his forehead. "The weasel or the wimp."

Atemu felt bad but couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, between the two, he's much more of a wimp." He admitted. "That's why he needs you." He pointed at Wati. "The two of you, you'll make up, get to know each other a bit, and soon you'll wonder how you ever got along without each other. You'll find you need each other. C'mon, it was a bad first impression, don't let it destroy everything."

Wati sighed, but grudgingly nodded. "Alright. I'll play my part."

"Good, good." Atemu smiled. "Now, let's get you to the temple, and we'll see what you can do."


	4. Cutting Deals

Chapter Four: Cutting Deals

"Seven-hundred and fifty million gold debens worth, I can go no higher." Can insisted, setting his jeweled goblet down on the table. "It's very fair."

"It's not swampland I'm selling you." Atemu insisted, seated on the opposing side of the table. "I'm leaving the structures, we have farms in place, mines, the barbarians are cleared out, all you have to do is move your subjects in." He leaned back in his large, sapphire encrusted chair, hands behind his head. "One and one fifth billion."

"I have a family to feed you know." Can grunted, looking over the parchment in front of him, reed pen in hand.

"And you can feed them with use of the many farm tracts already in place on the wonderful land I'm selling you." Atemu said coolly, glancing around the circular table at the rest of the world leaders, all eyes on him.

"I've already discussed this with my advisors, we have a very tight budget in place." Can insisted. "We planned everything out, we are set up for survival, and we need a certain amount of gold to make sure it happens. Seven hundred and fifty million."

"You want me to go to my son and tell him I sold two hundred million acres of cultivated, developed land at less than four gold debens an acre? It'd make him sick!" Atemu smirked.

"I can only give what I have to spare." Can said, hands in fists on the table. To his left, Homer turned around to look at one of the servants standing by the wall, raising his goblet towards the man. Quickly, he moved forth with a large pitcher, refilling the glass with a red liquid.

Atemu shrugged. "I would ordinarily sell this land for no less than two billion, I have made all of the concessions I am willing to make already. Do not forget who is holding the cards at this table, Can."

Raj raised his hand, seated a few seats to Atemu's right. "Nine hundred million."

"Hey!" Can exclaimed, scowling at the Sudan King. "You're five hundred miles away from this territory!"

Raj shrugged. "It's never going to sell at your rates, I don't want to die sitting at this table."

"Thank you, King Raj, but King Can currently has the table." He turned to his immediate right, at Isis. "Kindly make a note of his offer."

"Oh, you're considering this?" Can said indignantly, still glaring at the Sudan King. "That territory used to belong to me, it's right to the south of Ankara...you'd sell it to anyone?"

Atemu ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. "I'm open to anything."

Can looked over a couple of other documents in front of him, weighing his options. "Alright, alright...I'll play your game." He coughed. "That land...it's not prime territory. Lot's of rough terrain, some dead spots...you can't farm in a good portion of it. One billion. Five an acre."

Atemu glanced over at his High Priestess. They exchanged glances before she nodded. "Eight hundred million now...eight hundred million in five years." He countered, smiling naughtily. The entire tables exchanged their own glances with one another.

"Interesting." Can scratched his head. "I'm listening."

"One and third fifths billion. Half now, half to be paid within five years. If you fail to pay off the debt, in full, at the deadline, there will be a fifty percent interest charge on the outstanding balance and another five years to pay that off. Fail to pay that off, and you forfeit the protection granted you by my treaty."

The Turkish King furrowed his brow in thought, hand up to his mouth.

"I'm all about creativity." Atemu added, glancing back over at Isis who was writing with her reed pen as fast as she could on the scroll.

"Shave fifty million off both ends?" Can proposed.

"Will you make sure your wife continues to bake pies for my birthday parties?" Atemu responded, rubbing his chin.

"Of course." Can nodded.

"Sounds fair." Atemu took in a deep breath, staring the Turkish King down.

"Then that is our agreement?" Can wrote something down on a parchment piece in front of him.

"Seven hundred fifty million now, seven hundred fifty million in five years, same interest conditions." Atemu pointed at Isis, who continued to write out the details of the negotiations, her pen a blur. "I consider the deal closed."

Isis then grabbed a small slip of blank parchment to the right of her scroll, quickly scrawling some notes on it. She turned around and raised it up above her head, prompting a female servant positioned against the outer wall of the meeting room to step forward.

"Have a contract drafted for this." She instructed, giving her the slip of parchment.

"Yes, High Priestess." She bowed before scurrying away, through a door behind Atemu.

"Very good." Atemu nodded, sliding a large parchment with a map of Egypt on it down the table towards Ahmed, Libyan King, to his left. "Cut yourself a slice."

""""

"Your hand must be sore." Atemu smirked at Isis from his seat on the side of the bed, Isis standing at attention in front of him.

"I'm perfectly fine, my Pharaoh." She insisted. "You did very well today."

"I think we'll have everything settled in another...five days." He laid back on the bed, looking over at his pillows at the head. "Did you see the way everyone perked up when I suggested a time-lapse debt? They liked that."

"You again display your great wisdom in offering such an option." She nodded happily.

"Seto thought of it." Atemu kicked his feet up onto the bed, worming himself into a laying position, rotating himself to align with the bed.

"Well, you implemented it." She tucked strands of her long black hair behind her ear.

The door to the Pharaoh's bedchamber flew open with force, banging loudly against the wall adjacent it. The Pharaoh and his High Priestess quickly looked up to see Wati standing there. Wearing the tall headpiece and robes of a priest, his blue and white like his father's, he certainly had the appearance of a priest.

Wasting no time with pleasantries, he walked right into the room, moving towards the bed.

"Sir, High Priestess, please come with me immediately!" He ordered.

"Wati?" Atemu raised an eyebrow at his prized young priest. "What's-"

"Please, there's no time!" He grabbed the Pharaoh's wrist and pulled, great strength assisting in Atemu's slide across his covers.

"Alright, alright." Atemu jumped to his feet and followed the quick steps of the young priest, Isis hot on his heels.

He led them through the Pharaoh's workroom, remaining silent as he quickly pushed the door open out into the second level main hallway, beckoning the pair out into it.

Almost as soon as they had stepped into the hallway, a loud crash rang from the Pharaoh's bedroom, Atemu hitting the floor as Wati grabbed his Uncle and pushed him down into a crouching position. Isis ducked down as well, hands on her head.

Atemu could hear commotion as dozens of guards sprinted toward the disturbance. He looked up, seeing a few of his robed guardians come around the hallway's corner and crowd around the trio.

"Wati-" Atemu grunted as a few guards looked him over for any signs of damage.

"I was...I was meditating, and saw something." He said as another guard gave him a similar look-over. "I didn't have time to tell anyone, I got here as quick as I could."

"You saw that?" Atemu looked at his bedroom's door, two guards pushing it open and bursting into the seemingly unscathed workroom.

"I saw...I saw something, an accident in your bedchamber. I didn't see specifics but I had a funny feeling about it." Wati described, eyes closed as he recalled his vision. "A...a large stone?"

"What's going on in there?" Atemu called out to the guards who had just pushed their way into his bedchamber.

"Pass it along!" One of them cried out. "Window's broken, large stone embedded in wall a few meters to the right of the door! Probable catapult, we need to find it!"

One of the guards by Atemu looked at him. "Sir, we'll lead you to a bunker for the time being-"

"D-don't worry about it." He stammered, looking into his workroom, trying to catch a glimpse of the proceedings in there. "I'll sleep in the secondary bedchamber tonight, it'll be fine."

"Sir, I-"

"That's enough, the concern now is finding that catapult." Atemu said sternly, pointing down the hall. "We're all fine, don't worry about me, go on."

The guard bowed deeply and turned to run off, Isis looking Wati up and down in surprise.

"You saw this?" She pointed in the direction of the attacked room. "Just now?"

He nodded. "I was meditating, it just came to me out of nowhere."

Inspite of the situation, Atemu allowed a private smile as he headed down the hall towards the alternate bedchamber that royal wives would use during troubled nights. "Truly your father's son." He looked back at the two, motioning for them to follow.

""""

"Isis." Atemu pointed at Wati, who stood tall with his chest stuck out and hands behind his back in front of his uncle and Pharaoh. "That rock could very well have knocked my head clean off, and he saw it." He nodded in wonder, smiling. "He was brought into the temple ten days ago, and he saw what no one else could see."

"It is impressive." She admitted, standing near the doorway, leaning against the wall and arms crossed over her chest. "Even I saw nothing of this attack."

"This fourteen year old with no official training foiled an assassination attempt! I knew it!" He jumped up from the bed, quickly bringing the distance between him and his nephew to nothing as he embraced him in a hug. "I knew it! He's got it! He's got it Isis! Just like his father!"

She nodded. "He certainly has a great deal of potential."

"Wati, did you see anything else? Who did it? Anything about that sort of stuff?"

He shook his head. "N-no, sorry sir."

"Nono, it's fine. It's fine! You've done gloriously tonight. I could not have asked for any more. We'll...we'll handle it. The important thing is, you have shown yourself to truly be your father's son." He pulled back from the hug finally. "This is wonderful!"

"My Pharaoh, if we might talk in private?" Isis asked, stepping forward from the wall.

"Oh, sure. Uh, Wati, you're dismissed. Wonderful job tonight. Keep it up!" He enthused, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." He bowed, then turned to leave, walking past Isis.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Isis turned to the man she served. "Pharaoh Atemu, what would you have me do?"

Atemu sat back down on the bed, still smiling widely. He gave a tiny shrug. "Go to bed?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "This attack, it changes things. What are we going to do about the negotiations?"

Atemu pushed himself back on the bed, placing his head up on the pillows as he came to a laying position. "Yes...yes. The attack, I'll bet it was Homer. He always had a special hatred for me."

"I think we should cease negotiations immediately and send all of the world leaders out of this country as soon as possible." She said, hands behind her back as she walked around the bed.

"Although...why would they do this now?" He wondered out loud. "I'm trying to broker peace, and they think now is the time to do me in? I suppose it could be anyone with access to a catapult and rough knowledge of the palace layout."

"Regardless, until the investigation bears out some information, we need to postpone this auction." She insisted, eyes hard and voice stern. "I'll impose security restrictions on the guest rooms for the time being."

"Don't." Atemu raised his hand up in the air. "Let me sleep on it."

"Pharaoh-" Her eyebrows slanted at Atemu, confused by his uncharacteristic ease.

"They're not going to attack again tonight." He started to slip under the covers, worming his body beneath the silk cloth. "It's fine, let me think it over."

She stared at the aging Pharaoh for a few seconds, eyes now widening with some concern and fear. Finally, however, she turned and walked toward the door. "Very well. Good night, my Pharaoh."

""""

"You're all very lucky to still be alive." Atemu said majestically as he came to sit again at the most elaborate chair surrounding the polished stone table.

"What are you talking about?" Homer asked, a hint of malice in his voice.

"Last night, an assassination attempt was made on my life." He explained, meeting everyone's eyes. Isis followed his glares with ones of her own, giving everyone a half second glance from left to right. "I survived thanks to the intervention of a priest. The attack was...a longshot, a rather pitiful and desperate attempt. But in theory, were it not for the help of my priest, I would have been wounded or killed."

"And you blame us?" Raj asked, head resting on his hand, supported by his elbow propped on the table. "You think-"

"I highly suspect someone at this table was behind it." He picked his pen off of the table in front of him, spinning it around between his fingers. "How could I not?"

"Why would we attack you now?" Can leaned back in his chair. "C'mon, no one here would-"

"We are all prone to fits of illogical actions, Can." Atemu stood up, hands on the table. "Even myself, descendant of the gods."

Ahmed gave a small eye roll. "So, now what?"

"Look, Pharaoh, I don't like you, but I'm not stupid." Homer spoke. "I know I'm going to be the first suspect here, but...I didn't have anything to do with this!"

"I'm not going to single anyone out." Atemu waved his hand dismissively.

Omar cleared his throat. "We all deserve a fair trial! I can promise you I will come out clean in any fair investigation."

"There will be no investigation." Atemu said. Isis whipped her head around to look at her Pharaoh in shock. "I've already sent out orders to drop it."

"Ate-Pharaoh-" Isis stuttered out, brow furrowed.

"I don't want to know who did this. I would not want to know it even if one of you were to stand up, at this very second, and confess it. I don't want to know." He talked over the stunned Isis. "I am confident that the person behind this is sitting at this table, right now. And I will forgive that person, this time. I will forgive it, everything proceeds as planned."

There was silence all around the table as Atemu waited for some form of reaction. When none came, he continued.

"This one time, I will forgive and forget for the sake of peace. To the man at this table behind this attack, I don't want to know who you are. If I did, I would be compelled to execute you, and I do not desire any more bloodshed."

Isis leaned in toward Atemu. "Pharaoh-" she whispered through gritted teeth, but Atemu paid her no heed.

"If I am attacked again. If there is another attempt made on my life. Then I will be convinced that there is no possibility of peace in this world. Should that attempt come to pass, I will have all of you executed immediately, without question or investigation. Every last one of you, no exceptions. Then, I will send out our armies to crush the finals scraps of territory you all still possess, within a moon cycle there won't be anything left. There will be a strict take no prisoners policy for these attacks. Every speck of human life within your remaining lands will be crushed, including women and children. And then, there will be only Egypt, and we'll have peace for different reasons."

He nodded amidst the continued silence. "I am not joking around. I desire peace, but I will not lay down and take abuse from anyone. So to whoever it may concern, another attempt will result in the end of everything you know in this world. Even if your attempt were to succeed, I promise you my will shall be done by my successor all the same."

"Thank you, Pharaoh." Raj said, raising his goblet towards him. "It...it is kind of you to offer this, I am surprised and impressed."

"Thank you." Atemu smiled. "I think that about sums it up. I have never had much of a taste for forgiveness, but I will try it this one time." He clapped his hands. "Now, onto business!"

""""

"Pharaoh!" Isis whispered, casting a glance back into the room of world leaders, in idle conversation amongst each other. "Your amity is admirable, but this is foolish!"

"I am in no danger." He smiled easily. "They won't even consider attacking again, not after my threat. The initial attack was ridiculous in the first place, I'm sure whoever did it already regrets it."

"Nevertheless, you have been attacked!" She clasped her hands on Atemu's shoulders. "These people...one of them, tried to kill you! Don't you-"

"Look...I'm trying something different." He glanced into the room. "I really want this. This is important to me. I'm not just doing this because...it looks good in the history books or because someone made me promise it. I want this. And I'm willing to bend over backwards for it."

"You can still have your peace!" She gave his shoulders a squeeze. "We're not talking about someone kicking one of your vases over or insulting your hospitality, this is attempted murder!"

"I'm not speaking on this matter any further." Atemu grabbed her wrists and pried them off his shoulders. "I appreciate your thoughts, but...I am trying to listen to the gods here. I believe this is what they want of me."

She sighed, but gave a curt nod. "Very well. But if we catch so much as a whiff of a second attempt, everything goes off the table."

"I wouldn't worry about that." He turned Isis around and gave her a pat on the back. "Go get some food. I need your notes coherent."

""""

The Pharaoh pushed the double doors into Mahad's bedchamber open, the hinges groaning as he entered the large, dark room. Mahad laid back on the light red covers of the large bed, eyes opening at the sound of his doors.

"Should get those hinges looked at." Atemu said, approaching his trusted priest.

"I prefer to know when someone is entering my bedchamber." Mahad said simply. "I'd get up if I did not fear such movements would cause me to vomit."

"Seto always stood up." Atemu grabbed the chair at the desk a few meters to the right of the bed, spinning it around and taking a seat on it. For a moment, Mahad's face reflected genuine concern, but Atemu relieved it with a smile. "Don't worry about it."

"Did he really always stand up?" Mahad looked up at the ceiling.

"Indeed he did. But he was a rare breed, I wouldn't ask the things he did for me of anyone else." Atemu leaned back, right arm resting on the bench. "I've sold off half a billion acres now."

"It's really going to happen." Mahad replied wistfully. "I almost can't believe it."

"And...and Wati, I'm really excited about him. He's going to be great."

Mahad licked his lips slowly. "Pharaoh, could you please do something for me?"

"Name it." Atemu leaned in slightly.

"Tell High Priestess Isis I was the one who put the roaches in her incense jar when we were nine. And that I'm sorry." He smirked.

"Wait...what?" Atemu searched his memory. "No, that was me, I did that."

"You put them in her headdress." Mahad corrected.

"Oh, right." Atemu nodded. "Who was it who put the cobra in her room?"

Mahad shrugged. "Who knows?"

"You think we bullied her too much?" Atemu asked sarcastically, looking down at his fingers.

"That's what happens when you come from all that money. Needed to knock the brat out of her." He chuckled.

"You could tell her yourself. I don't think she's still sore about that one at any rate." Atemu looked over at the door, a smile still playing across his lips.

Mahad only sighed at this, looking slowly around the room at the light brown walls, hosting many paintings and ornaments, largely from a period two hundred years ago in Egyptian art, his personal preference. "There's a lot wrong with me, my Pharaoh. I get nauseated whenever I move, my knees hardly bend, I get tired just from being awake for a couple hours...I don't have any desire to remain alive when it's impossible to truly live."

The Pharaoh's smile fell.

"I did want to wait and make sure this peace would really happen...and you sure have it running smoothly. Yes, I don't think there's much reason for me to stick around here." Mahad nodded. "I've seen what I need to see, I think it's time."

"Y-you may feel better in a few days." Atemu stammered quietly, not really believing his words.

"Might." Mahad reached up to squeeze the pillow behind his head between his fingers.

"But you don't think you will." Atemu said glumly.

"Sure don't." Mahad rested his hands up above his head. "Don't much care to find out."

"I won't try to change your mind." Atemu glanced down at the floor. "Would you like a particular blade to do it with?"

Mahad snickered. "I'm not going to kill myself, Pharaoh! I'm going to let the gods make the final decision, as I have always tried to do."

Atemu raised an eyebrow. "So...you don't know?"

"A large part of dying is being ready to die." Mahad explained. "I've seen men who should have been long dead by all rights, but they weren't ready to check out. They kept on living, just on will and determination. Me, I think I'm ready to accept it. If you decide it's your time, it'll happen naturally pretty quickly. If you don't have the will to stick around, there's not a lot holding you there."

"I guess." Atemu said weakly, standing up. "Name any last wishes, and I will see them fulfilled."

"Just one more." Mahad cleared his throat. "Have Mana come visit me tonight."

Atemu nodded. "Yes, Mana. Of course."

"She's a good girl." He closed his eyes. "I tried my best to be there for her. Not having a father, terrible thing, I tried my best."

"She adores you like a father." Atemu assured him. "You meant the world to her, especially after her mother passed."

"One more last wish." He pushed his hair back from his face. "Be good to her. She deserves it. I know she's not a priest, but I've taught her everything I know. She certainly could be one."

"We both know that can't happen. But I can promise she'll spend the rest of her life enjoying the finest luxuries I can offer."

"She really does love your son." Mahad offered. "Would you at least consider it?"

Atemu gave a dry snort. "It's not that...that I don't want Mana and Ammon to have what they want. It has nothing to do with me. It's about the bloodline. It's about Egypt."

"There's a lot we don't know about Mana. Maybe...maybe it's not as...whatever you want to call it." Mahad took in another deep breath.

"I don't know if I can chance it." Atemu took a couple of slow steps toward the door. "We're talking about centuries of god-blood, running through the veins of my family. When it's gone, it's gone. I can't buy any more."

"Of course, I do understand your concern." Mahad glanced down at the foot of his bed for a moment before re-closing his eyes. "I just wish there was some way to know for sure."

"I'm not sure it matters." Atemu said grimly, halfway to the door. "I can't stop him from marrying her. Not after I hand him the throne, and especially not after I've passed."

"Just be good to her. She still thinks the world of you, she's still grateful for all you've done for her." Mahad coughed up some saliva, rubbing his mouth.

"Good night, Priest Mahad. Mana will be up shortly." He turned around, now just a couple steps from the door. "You'll be missed, I'll never forget your service to me."

"The pleasure was all mine, my Pharaoh." He gave a tiny nod in his direction, and Atemu spun to exit the room.

""""

Atemu sadly looked around the small, symmetrical memorial room. Made of grey stone, with two support pillars on either side and the body laying within a golden coffin in the back, it was not quite the tomb granted to Seto, but fancy nevertheless.

Mahad had been right. He had passed peacefully some time that night, and the very next day had been yet another memorial service to him. Egypt had seen quite a few massive memorial services in recent years, and Atemu could only hope this would be the last for awhile. He walked up right in front of the coffin where Mahad's body lay, looking down at his peaceful corpse.

He looked around the small room, listening for any sounds, but there was nothing else in there. Just him and a body. Slowly, he crouched down, then got onto his knees, eyes now level with the top of the golden coffin.

"Uh...this, has never been a real specialty of mine." He said aloud, hearing his voice echo ever so slightly on the tomb walls. "I'm a...a vain man, I confess to that. Um...be kind to Mahad. For he was a...a great man, a great priest, and a...a...he served me very well. I hope he is given the grandest rewards that the gods can bestow upon a mortal in the land of the two fields. Egypt would not be in the position that it is right now without his loyal service to me. He was a good friend as well."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forehead against the coffin. "W-what am I doing? I don't...I don't-of course you're going to give Mahad everything he could ever have desired. What..." He shook his head against the gold. "I...I don't even..."

He took in a deep, cleansing breath, pushing it all out before proceeding. "I don't know. For the first time, I...I don't know. I always thought I was doing the will of the gods, I never questioned it, all those years. I thought I was doing your will." He closed his eyes, head drooping downward. "I've lost so many of the things close to me. And I don't know. Maybe...maybe you were trying to tell me something? My third child, my wife, most of my inner circle, the love of my son...I've lost so much."

He felt his eyes start to water, but blinked hard to fight them back.

"All these years...was I not listening? I don't know anymore. But...but I'm trying to listen now. I really am. I'm beyond redemption, I accept that, I will face those consequences without a word of complaint when my time comes, I swear it." He sighed. "But...my children. Ammon and Asenath. Please, spare them. Don't take them from me."

A couple of small tears fell from his eyes onto the stone in front of the coffin, as Atemu again leaned his forehead against the coffin.

"Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I deserve to be alone and miserable, maybe I deserve to suffer, but...please, let me have them." He sniffled. "I-I see it now. I-I see your will, and I swear on the soul of every last one of my a-ancestors it will be followed. Please, protect my children, let no harm come to them. Let them die of old age, long after I am gone, warm in their beds with a long lifetime of achievements and experiences. I swear, there will be a peace. I will do everything within my power to solidify this peace, and Egypt will know a prosperity it has never known before. Just...just please. Please, protect my children, and I swear I will leave behind nothing but peace and prosperity when I step down. I swear I will do everything within my power to guarantee this for as long as possible, and I will face up to my sins in the afterlife, but...all I desire now is the safety of my children. Please, let me have that."

He looked up, again casting his eyes around quickly to find nobody else there. He got back to his feet, brushing off his knees, then giving a tiny bow toward Mahad's corpse before turning to leave the room.


	5. Confession

Chapter Five: Confessions

"I really do look forward to this peace." Ammon wrapped his right arm around Mana's shoulders, the two of them overlooking the palace courtyard from the third level balcony. The sun was just barely peaking up over the horizon in the east, the two of them taking in the early morning. "I am glad my father has seen it fit to do this."

"He does love you." Mana said softly, leaning in closer to the prince of Egypt. "I know you and him have your differences, but he would not be doing this if he didn't care about you very much."

"I know." He bit his lower lip. "I just don't understand, some of the things he does. And I know he doesn't think I'm going to be a good Pharaoh."

"He wouldn't be handing you the throne willingly if he didn't think you were going to be fine." She insisted. "And I _know_ you'll be a great Pharaoh."

He gave a tiny chuckle. "Just call me Pharaoh Iabi."

"Don't be like that." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "You'll be great."

"I'm...scared." Ammon looked down at the sands of the courtyard beneath him. "Even with this peace, it's a burden I don't think I'm ready to take alone."

She pushed herself up on the ledge of the balcony, taking a seat on the marble surface, turned back to look at Ammon.

"I don't want to take it alone." He gave her knees a gentle squeeze. "I don't think I can. I don't want to try to be my father and take this on alone."

"Ammon..." she said quietly, smile slowly fading.

"I need...I need help." He continued.

"You'll have your sister. Your high priest, your inner circle, you won't be alone."

"That's not what I meant." He grabbed her hands in his. "All Pharaohs had...they had love. The love of a woman. Even my father did, once, and he lost himself when he lost her love."

"Ammon-"

"I want you there, by my side, as I take this task on." He went down to one knee as Mana stared down at him. "There is no other person on this planet I want with me, supporting me, guiding me." He reached into the left pocket of his robes, pulling out a massive golden ring with tiny emeralds and rubies in ring formations around it. "Can you join me, Mana? Will you marry me?"

She gave a wan smile, but it quickly fell into a dejected frown as she glanced down at the marble to Ammon's left. "Oh...Ammon."

"I know I don't deserve you. I should be...worshipping you." He continued. "Perhaps it is too bold of me to ask, but I feel I must."

"Oh, darling. There's nothing you don't deserve." She slipped down from the ledge. "I love you, and would give anything to join you on the throne. But...your father, the Pharaoh-"

"What about him?" He asked, remaining down on one knee.

"I know...I know he doesn't approve." She said sadly. "I know he doesn't want us to-"

"My father doesn't matter!" He insisted. "Soon, I will be Pharaoh, and his word and wish will mean nothing!"

"No, it's...it's...you know I love you, and nothing would make me happier. But your father..."

"He can't even give a reason!" He grabbed her right hand again between his two larger ones. "He's just being difficult, don't-"

"Darling, I'm sorry, but...you don't understand. I'm sorry, but...your father pulled me from the slums, me and my mother. We had nothing, he gave us everything. I owe everything to him. I can not go against his wish, not ever, I could never disrespect him in good conscious." Mana went down on one knee, level to her love, eyes wide and expressive.

"Mana, think of all you've done for him, he-"

"I am so sorry. I want this more than anything I have ever wanted, but without your father's blessing, I can't." She slumped her head over slightly. "Not after all he's done for me."

He slowly put the ring back into his pocket, head slumping over as well. "I...I understand." He finally said. "I understand."

"Thank you." She leaned forward to hug him. "I'm so sorry."

"Can I...can I ask something else of you?" He said, looking over her shoulder.

"Anything." She patted him on the back a couple times.

"Ask him." He slowly picked her up, coming to his feet.

She looked into his eyes, blinking a couple times.

"I know he won't give it to me, we've talked enough about it for me to be sure of that." He looked over the ledge again. "But you...after all you've done for him...he can't refuse you. Even I don't think he's stubborn enough to refuse a request from you."

She frowned. "I...I don't know...with all he has given to me, to ask anything of him, I do not know-"

"Mana. Please." He pleaded. "At least try, for me."

She swallowed, closing her eyes. "I...I'll ask." She re-opened her eyes, giving a small smile. "I will go to him and ask for his blessing. But, if he does not give it, then I can't do it. Not ever."

"I understand." He smiled warmly.

"I will ask him tonight." She hugged him again. "I promise."

""""

Atemu laid in his bed, looking up at the ceiling, feeling the guilt claw at his stomach. Lately, whenever he didn't have something to take his mind off of it, he found his guilt was getting worse and worse. He started to dread sleeping, when he had nothing else but that to think on. He closed his eyes, recalling his dream of the previous night. It was a perfect recreation of his order to Mdjai, Seto watching, subtlely pleading with him to reconsider. Sitting there in silence, waiting. Hearing the words, the deed had been done.

He wanted to forget it, but he knew he didn't deserve it. He knew he deserved to be haunted by this forever.

On the request of several of the world leaders, he had decided to take the day off from negotiations. After three long days of such intense discussions, many thought they needed a day to mull on everything. Atemu realized that, without the distraction of the negotiations, he had nothing but guilt to consume his thoughts.

The door to his room swung open, drawing his thoughts away as he sat up. Wati stepped in, dropping down to one knee in a bow to the Pharaoh.

"Morning." He smiled.

"Good morning, my Pharaoh." He stood back up.

"How are things for you in the temple?" He asked, pulling his legs over the side of the bed.

"...fair." He answered. "Occasionally frustrating."

"So I've heard." He stood up. "Priest Wati, you are very talented and will make a fine high priest one day, that I can promise. However, a priest is expected to conduct himself in a proper manner at all times, particularly-"

"I do apologize." Wati began, bowing his head. "I was-"

"Do not interrupt me." Atemu waved his hand at him. "Now, Temple Mistress Djeserit is something of a feminist, I do understand that. You are far from the first male she's rubbed the wrong way. But she is an authority figure you must respect and obey for the time being."

"I will make amends for this." Wati replied.

"I don't enjoy putting you to such menial tasks, but I'm afraid I have no choice but to ask you to remake the tapestry. It was a fairly new one with little value, but I have heard it tied the room together nicely."

"I will apologize for my words as well." Wati nodded shortly.

"Very good." Atemu smiled. "You have a fiery spirit, I wouldn't try to strip that from you, but you do need to control it. Your father was fiery as well, but he learned to control it when he was very young."

"I will, I swear it."

"Good." He patted him on the shoulder. "I know you will. Now, once you're done with that, I don't think you'll need to worry about the temple anymore."

He looked up at the Pharaoh, forehead wrinkled in confusion. "My Pharaoh, I-"

"Call me uncle." Atemu insisted, smiling broadly. "I understand, my nephew, the temple is beneath you. I don't want you to waste your time in there, your time is too valuable. I understand your frustration. Once you make amends for your outburst, you need no longer trouble yourself in there."

"But, I-"

"Isis will train you personally from now on, you may benefit from her guidance. Anything else would be a waste of your talents, I can see that now." Atemu slowly strolled over to his desk on the other side of the room. "You can be in the palace, mine or Isis's, full-time from now on."

"Thank you, sir."

"Uncle." Atemu turned to him, giving him a mock stern glare. "I'm your uncle. I insist on it."

"Yes, uncle." Wati corrected himself as Atemu turned back around.

"You are royalty, by birth. Your blood is Seto's blood, and his blood is mine. That's the bottom line, and you deserve to be treated as such. As I loved Seto, so will my son come to love you."

"I won't let you down, s-uncle. I promise." Wati glanced at the door, then gave a tiny smile.

"It's really I who should be apologizing. I wasn't sure at first, I didn't give you the respect you deserved." Atemu grabbed a golden paperweight sphinx from his desk, tossing it up into the air and catching it. "Now, I see it. You, you are my nephew. You're almost my son. I should treat you as such. You are family, my family. My blood. From now on, consider yourself a member of the royal family."

"I will." Atemu ran his hands over his robefront, smoothing it out. "Thank you."

"Now, you do have an apology to make and I'm afraid you are expected to assist in replacing the tapestry still." Atemu swallowed. "After you're done with that, you may end your commitment to training in the temple."

"I understsand." Wati bowed again. "It will be done. Uncle, I was asked by the priests to deliver some information to you."

"Go ahead." Atemu nodded.

"Priest Kahotep is expected to make a full recovery from his curious reaction a few days ago. The doctors believe he has a serious aversion to chocolate and will need to avoid it for the remainder of his life. The architects have finished drawing up schematics for the wall and have a rough budget proposal."

"Very good." Atemu set the paperweight back down.

"Oh, and a royal assassin by the name of Mdjai passed last night."

Atemu's hand froze on the carved golden trinket, smile falling. "Mdjai?"

"Yes. A well-respected and talented assassin according to the scholar preparing the eulogy."

He nodded. "Yes, I knew Mdjai. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Dismissed." He gestured toward the door. "Very...very good, good job." He muttered.

Wati raised an eyebrow slightly, but obediently turned to leave as Atemu staggered toward his bed.

The door shut behind Wati, and the Pharaoh took a seat at the foot of the bed, looking down at his clasped hands.

Mdjai, the man he had sent to do the task he wanted so badly to be undone. The thing he wanted to take back above all else. It wasn't that Mdjai was someone close to him, someone he would miss on a personal level, but he certainly would never forget that name. Now, two of the three who knew his deepest, darkest secret had taken it to their graves. True, his son had figured it out, but the secret was nevertheless in danger of being forever forgotten within the mortal realm.

He thought of Seto, bravely continuing to serve him loyally and never speaking of his horrible secret. He was sure Seto had taken the truth and locked it away, deep within the recesses of his mind, never opening it and burying it alongside his body. Surely Mdjai had said nothing of it, if only for fear of his life. Would his son ever speak of it? Would he air out his father's dirty laundry out of spite? He doubted it, he had lived in denial of that truth for so long because it had horrified him so. To make it public would be too much.

Leaving just him. Just The Pharaoh, and the burden of now carrying that secret very nearly alone was weighing on his conscious. At least before he could pretend he had people around him who knew what he had done and accepted it, that feeling of sharing the secret made him feel a little better.

He stood up, blinking back some tears, taking labored steps toward the door.

""""

"Lust is a difficult beast to tame." Isis soothed the young man kneeling on the cushion in front of her, eyes downcast at the floor in front of her stool. "The gods do understand mortals are prone to fits of lust, even as they look down on it."

"I am worried, High Priestess. I cannot control my thoughts, my mind is always turning to her, I-" the man said shakily, hands on his knees. He looked around quickly in the simple stone room, a few ribbons of red looping around high up on the walls. To the right of Isis was a dark red curtain, concealing a small hallway that Isis used for arrival and departure. "...I am worried about my soul."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." She smiled warmly. "The gods do not condemn mortals for the passive act of lust. Acting on such urges in unlawful manners, that is the true sin."

"But I know they frown on me for it," he insisted, biting his lower lip. "I've tried to...to fight it off on my own, but it's such a challenge."

"I am a mortal woman too." She leaned forward, picking her legs up to cross them in front of her. "I understand the dilemma. Have you talked to this woman at all?"

"N-no, I don't think I could-"

"That would be my recommendation." Isis rested her elbows on her knees, hands supporting her head. "Come to see her as a person. Get to know her. Perhaps your lust will turn to friendship once you come to know her, and the gods certainly welcome friendship."

"What would I say?" he asked, brow coated in a thin layer of sweat.

"That's hardly my area of expertise." She gave a tiny chuckle. "I'm sure you can think of something. If you can't, however, I assure you that your passive lust will not damn you from the land of the two fields on it's own. If you wish to purge it all the same, get to know her better."

"T-thank you." He bowed his head toward her, then stood up from the pillow.

Slowly he backed out of the room, still sweating nervously but a small smile on his face. He opened the door and spun around, but froze in his tracks the moment he faced the way out of the room.

He fell to his hands and knees, pressing his head against the stone floor, as Atemu stepped over him into the room. Isis's eyes flew open in shock, unfurling her legs to the ground and rising to her feet.

"D-dismissed," he said quietly, flicking his fingers toward the man on the ground. He scurried out of the room, crawling on his hands and knees, making himself scarce as quickly as he could.

"Pharaoh Atemu!" She placed her hands behind her back. "You could have sent for me, there was no need for you to come all this way."

"No...no, I wanted to come," he said, his voice still low and his face long. He staggered towards her. "I need to be here."

"I-I don't understand, my Pharaoh, I can-"

"Isis." He silenced her, staring at her with dull, drooping eyes. "What is it you do here?"

She looked around the room, hands coming to rest at her sides. "I...you mean here, in this room?"

"Yes. What is it you do here, in this room?" Atemu looked down at the cushion.

"Well, I...I see Egyptian citizens. I see troubled Egyptian citizens. Guilty souls who seek a place to confess sins, people who want to redeem themselves and find forgiveness from the gods. I...I try to help." she explained. "It's a...a significant part of the duties of priests. I don't have to do it anymore but I...rather enjoy it. I try to make time for it a few times a moon cycle. Of course, if you have need of my service, I will not hesitate to postpone this and do as you ask-"

Atemu went down on his knees on the cushion, Isis's eyes flying open in further confusion.

"Pharaoh, I...I-" she suddenly fell to her knees, trying to duck her head below the Pharaoh's.

"Stand up." Atemu grunted. "Sit on your stool. Please."

She raised an eyebrow at him, turning around to look at her stool.

"Please." Atemu repeated, putting his hands on his thighs. Slowly, she complied, rising to her full height of a couple inches short of five and a half feet. With much trepidation, she sat down on the stool, looking at the man she served fearfully.

"You...listen to troubled Egyptians? Hear their sins? Let them confess?" Atemu bowed his head slightly, making Isis all the more uncomfortable.

"Yes. I...I comfort them. I ease their guilt, talk about how they might redeem themselves, ways in which the gods could forgive their sins." she continued to explain. "But-"

"That's what I want, High Priestess." he said huskily, clearing his throat. "I have something I need to confess."

"Oh, Pharaoh, please!" She gave a nervous smile. "That's not...this isn't...you don't need to ask forgiveness of the gods! You are-"

"Isis. I need to confess this to someone. This...this secret, I can't carry it any more. It's too much for me to carry now." Atemu sighed deeply.

She leaned forward, bending over to grab his hands and lifting them up in front of her. "Pharaoh Atemu. You have nothing to answer for to the gods. You are the finest Pharaoh to ever walk the mortal realm, the gods only wish that all of their descendants were like you. After all you have done for Egypt, the gods should be thanking you."

"I have something to confess. If not to the gods, then to you. The gods, you don't confess to the gods, they know. They know everything, I'm sure they know this. But...the guilt, I feel as if it will crush me. I need to know, Isis. I need to know if I can be forgiven, what I need to do to relieve my guilt. I can't go on with this...this pit in my stomach anymore."

"Atemu...are you feeling alright?" she asked. "This...it's not like you."

"Isis, I need to know if I can be forgiven for this. I need to know what I can do to redeem myself. I need to...to at least confess it. Please." Atemu sniffled a couple times.

Isis pursed her lips, glancing to her right. "Pharaoh, I know you were the one who put the roaches in my headdress when I was nine, and I-"

"No...no, it's not that, this...I need you to be honest. I'm going to tell you...everything, and I need to know the truth. Can you do that for me?"

She smiled. "If that is what you desire, my Pharaoh, then it will be done." She leaned forward to kiss his right hand. "But you need not be so troubled, a man of your stature will be damned by nothing."

"I am consumed by this secret, High Priestess. This guilt, this regret, it monopolizes my thoughts. My dreams. Everything, it's all I can do to focus on my peace negotiations. It's getting worse. Every day it gets worse and now...I just need to release it."

Isis patted his hands. "My Pharaoh, you should not be plagued by such demons. It's most unfair to you."

He took in a deep breath. "Isis. Do you remember fifteen years ago, my third child? Do you remember?"

"Oh." She pressed her forehead to the back of Atemu's hands. "Oh, yes, I remember. A horrible tragedy. Is this what plagues you?"

Atemu held silent, his bottom lip quivering.

"A terrible tragedy, but no one's fault, least of all you." She comforted him.

"N-no, you don't...that's not it." Tears started to well up in his eyes. "She...Teana, she was fed up. It was my fault. She was sick of it. I broke my promise to her, and she wanted to leave."

"My Pharaoh, a failed marriage is a shame, but nothing to be so consumed by." she offered, stroking the back of his right hand with her left's fingers. "You shouldn't-"

"She...she wanted to leave, but I wouldn't have it. I...I forced her to stay. So she...she..." a few tears dripped down to the stone beneath his legs. "It wasn't a miscarriage, Isis. That's was the story, but...it wasn't." He took in another great breath, his cheeks now streaked with the salty discharge of his tear ducts. "It...it was an abortion."

Isis's smile had now fallen. Her eyes widened in shock, mouth slightly open and jaw slack.

"She...she killed my child. Our child." he continued. "B-because, she knew...she knew it was the only way out. It w-was the one way out. The one thing I couldn't forgive." He closed his eyes, giving a tiny moan of agony. "I tried to...l-let it be. I-I wanted so badly to just let it be. But I couldn't."

Isis looked down at the Pharaoh's hands, then back up to his face, eyebrows dropping a fraction of an inch as she listened.

"I...I ordered her death. I ordered her death." He swallowed hard, now weeping openly. "I had a man go and kill her, on my o-o-orders. I regret so much, High Priestess, but this most of all."

She slowly withdrew her hands from his, letting them fall to his sides limply.

"Not a d-day goes by when I don't wish I c-could take it back. There's n-nothing I wouldn't give to take it back." he choked out, raising his hands up to wipe his cheeks. "But I can't."

She stood up, looking down at the man she served, face now an emotionless mask.

"I...I have been consumed by these thoughts for so long." he moaned, rubbing his eyes with his index fingers. "It makes me sick, knowing I was the one who gave that order! I...I want to go back and...and talk to the man who gave that order, tell him what I know now, but I can't. I need to know, Isis."

She turned toward the curtains to her right, taking deliberate steps toward it. Atemu stared at her retreating back, eyes wide.

"Isis, please! I need to know! What can I do? What should I do? Please, tell me! Please, I can't take this guilt anymore! I can't take this suffering!" he cried out, reaching his right hand out towards her.

She paused, giving the Pharaoh a quick look over her shoulder, then turning back to the curtain. She stood there, stock still, as Atemu pleadingly stared at the back of her head.

"It is just that you suffer," she finally said, voice cold and distant. With that, she took the final two steps, pushing the curtain to her left and disappearing under it, the red cloth falling to conceal her retreat.

Atemu's head drooped to his chest, then his entire body simply fell to the ground, his limbs askew. He wept there, alone, for some time before dragging himself out of the small confession chamber.


	6. Paved with Good Intentions

Chapter Six: Paved With Good Intentions

With a great bang, the door to the Pharaoh's bedchamber shot open, a despondent Atemu stumbling in. His face still red and wet with salty tears, he collapsed on the bed face-first.

Clutching the covers between his fingers, bunching the fabric up in his hands, he rubbed his face into the blanket. He knew he had gotten exactly what he deserved from Isis, but it made him feel no better about being so coldly rebuked. He had been hoping against hope that Isis might understand, at least comfort him, offer to be there for him. Be there like Seto had been. Even if Seto didn't agree with his choice, he accepted it. Now that he was gone, he realized how much he needed someone who at least accepted his decision, and continued to respect him.

He looked up from the bed at the small wooden table by the right pillow, a tiny bronze bell with a handle sitting on it. He dragged himself towards it, grabbing it and giving it several mighty shakes above his head, the tinny chime sounding through the air.

Within seconds, the bookcase on the right side of the back wall slid to the right, revealing a narrow hallway. A tall, muscular woman stepped out, dropping into one knee after stepping into the room.

"Crate of Wine." he grunted before she could say anything, not turning to look at her.

"...sir?" She craned her neck, trying to get a look at his face.

"Bring me a crate of wine." He fought to keep his voice steady, feeling ashamed enough of allowing himself to be seen by so many palace guards while weeping madly.

"Mighty Pharaoh, are you expecting company-"

"Bring me a crate of wine." he repeated, letting a hint of anger creep into his voice.

The woman looked around the room. "Which types would you-"

"God _dammit _woman, one more word out of you and I'm going to march over there and carve your throat out!" he spat through gritted teeth, hands in tight fists.

Quickly, she retreated back into the hall. Atemu took in a deep breath. He knew that he didn't want to say that, even as he said it, but there was a tiny part of him that felt ever so slightly better, getting to yell at someone like that. He wasn't even going to apologize when she got back, just because letting her sweat it out made him feel better on some basic, emotional level. The anger at her distracted him from the sorrow, as shallow and false as that anger may have been.

He needed to distract himself from the sorrow. He didn't care how, his visit to Isis had made things far, far worse. He needed to find a way to at least hold his agony back so he could finish the negotiations. He needed just a few more days to settle things in Egypt forever, and then nothing mattered. At the very least, he knew he needed to get some decent sleep tonight, and he didn't much care how he came by that sleep.

He heard the sound of footsteps sweeping across the carpet, but remained motionless on his bed.

Several seconds passed in silence after the footsteps ceased, Atemu guessing she was standing there with the crate in hand.

"Set it down on the floor." He heard a quiet clink of bottles as she did so. "You're excused. If I ring the bell again, bring some girls in."

Valuing her throat, she turned around without a word and swept out of the room, her quiet, soft footsteps just barely causing an audible disturbance.

After he heard the bookshelf slide back into place, he rolled himself over and looked over the edge of the bed. There, on the carpet, was a box of wooden planks, the lid barely ajar. He reached down with his left hand, knocking the wooden top off the box. Inside was half a dozen clay jars of wine, a little bit of straw serving as a cushion. In one of the corners was a golden goblet.

He pulled the shiny cup out, then threw it off to the side, then making to withdraw one of the thin tall jars from the box. Knocking the cap off of the mouth, he raised it to his lips and raised it, inviting the sweet juice into his mouth.

He held it there for several seconds before coming up for air, enjoying the dulling sensation of the alcohol. It gave him another superficial sense of relief. There may as well have not been any other kind now.

"Well...that's it." he muttered to himself under his breath. "This is it." He looked down at the jar. "You're the only friend I have now. I'm just...I guess I'm just doomed."

He took another deep drag, eyes closed. He tasted the light grape flavor in it, a nice contrast to the sharp sting of the alcohol.

"J-just get me through these next couple days, old buddy. I've got some unfinished business, I've got to take care of it." He licked his lips, savoring the smooth texture.

"It's just...it is just that I suffer. Straight from the mouth of the High Priestess." Atemu leaned back against the headrest of the bed, setting the jar between his legs. "She's dedicated her entire life to serving me. She's known me her whole life."

He lifted the now much lighter container to his mouth again, welcoming more of the wine into his stomach.

"So, no forgiveness for me!" He looked up at the ceiling as he set the pitcher back down. "Alright! Alright, I'll...I'll take it like a man. Just let me finish my work, and I'll spend the last...decade of my life in agony, laying on my bed, crying."

He twisted his head around back and forth, stretching out his neck. "It's...it's what I deserve. It really is. But, still..."

He took another deep drink, tilting the urn higher and higher until it was vertical and offered no more of the sweet juice. He threw it off to the side, not much minding when it shattered into about a dozen pieces on contact with the floor, and simply reached back down to the crate to grab another one. In the very, very back of his mind, he noted that it was a bad idea to drink this much this fast. But it never made it past that simple note.

"I suppose that's the long and short of it." He knocked the cap off of the second container, wasting no time in sampling it, this one a white wine. "B-but...well..."

He set the container down on the bed, contemplating the small mouth of it.

"I...I don't know. I've expanded Egypt in every direction, crushed our enemies, sent the economy through the roof, inspired innovation in all walks of life." Atemu ran his right index finger across the rim of the jar. "With all I've done, don't I...don't I deserve a second chance? The opportunity to redeem myself?"

He poured more of the mind-altering concoction down his throat, enjoying the slowly fading grip on reality.

"Well...well, I...hope you enjoy my work." He slid down the bed, nearly prone, his head just barely tilted up by the pillow. "Whatever. I...I can take it-I mean, come on! If I had a...a sign or something. Just give me...something to work with here! How am I supposed to know..."

He sucked down more of the contents of the jar, whatever inhibitors normally protecting his tongue long deactivated.

"A...a sign, just...it's not fair!" He splashed the remainder of the jar's contents onto his face, staining his sheets, pillow, face and robe with the white liquid. He gave his head a good shake, scattering droplets in all directions. "Well...I mean..." He threw the jar off the bed, this one hitting the far window and cracking into pieces before coming to rest on the ground.

"I...I...Wati." he murmured, reaching down and feeling around for the crate. "Wati...Wati..." His fingers found it, and he fumbled around amongst the straw for one of the remaining clay jars.

"Wati...he...Wati..." He finally located one of the wine holders and plucked it from the box, ignoring the distinct warnings in his brain to stop drinking. "I...I mean, Wati, that...he...I...wait..." He squinted his eyes, his impaired brain working very, very hard on solving this mystery. "Wati...yeah."

He nodded slowly, tapping the lid of the jar with his fingers. "I mean sure...it's so...so obvious. Oh...oh thank you, of course. I mean, Isis...she's a...she's a girl, she doesn't understand. How...how could she, of course. Yes, yes, it...it makes too much sense. Of course."

He threw the full jar off the bed, not even noticing when it hit the floor in front of his desk and broke, soaking a load of purple wine right into the carpet.

"Yes...yes of course." He closed his eyes, ignoring the dampness of his sheets and his robes. "Wati...he's the key. Oh, gods, I see it now! Of course! Of course!"

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, in the sopping wet cloth, eyes closed as he assembled his scrambled thoughts into something coherent. At some point, he staggered to the bathroom and had no doubt made the job of his bedchamber servant that night all the more unpleasant, after which his thoughts flowed more freely and he really felt like he had something.

He was only vaguely aware of the things that happened during that time span, and only truly came back to reality when a soft knock came from his bedroom door.

As if snapping out of a slumber, he started up with some surprise to find he was laying down on the floor in a soaking wet puddle of wine-drenched carpet, his legs under his bed. He still could feel the dulling sensation of alcohol in his mind, but things seemed fairly clear.

"What?" he shouted as he pushed himself upright, giving his head a good shake.

"Mana's here to see you."

Dimly, Atemu acknowledged that someone was finally following protocol when entering his bedchamber. He wobbled over to the door, pulling it open roughly.

There stood one of the many faceless, nameless guards of his palace, flanking Mana who immediately dropped down to one knee.

"Mighty Pharaoh, might I trouble you for a few minutes?" she asked, head bowed.

Atemu silently beckoned the guard away, flicking his wrist toward him. He gave a quick bow before backing out of the workroom. Without a word, he brushed past her and went over to his desk. She remained down on her knee, watching his movements.

He heavily sat back in his desk chair, motioning Mana forward with his right hand, pointing at the opposite chair with his left. She got up and swept over towards it, quickly taking a seat as Atemu stared at her.

She chose to ignore his hard glare and red face, having worked so hard on building up the courage to come visit him in the first place. He didn't look very receptive to requests at the moment, but she felt it had to be now.

"Mighty Pharaoh, I love you very much. Everything I have, I have thanks to you. My mother got to enjoy the last ten years of her life thanks to you. I would probably have died long ago, a nameless peasant that no one cared about, without your grace." Mana began, a smile on her lips. "I am eternally grateful for all you have given me, and I am very hesitant to ask anything else of you."

He just continued to glare her down, hands on the armrests of his chair, giving away none of the thoughts running through his mind.

"I love your son very much as well, mighty Pharaoh. It is only because of that that I am here now, to ask this of you. It will be the last time I request anything of you, that I can promise. It is at his urging that I am here. I pray you will not find my request impudent or disrespectful, for I mean neither." Mana held her small smile as it threatened to wilt under his unwavering gaze. "I know you have reservations about our relationship. I know you don't approve. I don't know the reasons for this, nor will I ask, as they are yours to present to who you see fit, when you see fit."

The Pharaoh crossed his right leg over his left.

"I love Ammon. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I desire it above anything else in the mortal realm. But I do understand the gravity of such a commitment. I understand why you need to be deeply concerned with who enters the royal family. So, I willingly pass the decision onto you, the ultimate authority in all matters. I promise that, if you grant me your blessing, I will forever and always honor him as a good wife should. I will raise his children to be great, strong Pharaohs and Princesses. I will always love him unconditionally."

Atemu's nostrils flared slightly, causing Mana to flinch, but she was not about to stop now.

She took in a deep breath and then continued. "I will not ask this of you again, and swear to forever abide by the decision you make tonight. If you choose not to grant me your blessing, I will never enter into marriage with Ammon. No matter how much it may pain me, if it is what you desire, then I will never marry your son." She bowed her head down slightly. "And I will remain forever grateful for your kindness to me, no matter your choice tonight."

For several seconds, he just stared at his gifted black magician, the muscles in his face giving the occasional twitch.

Finally, he took in a lungful of air, Mana looking more and more nervous by the second, and licked his lips.

"You should not have come here tonight." He rasped, immediately knocking the smile from Mana's mouth. "You were right the first time."

She glanced down at the floor, going slightly red.

"After all I've done for-...look at me when I'm talking to you." Her eyes snapped back up to look at the Pharaoh, as much as she didn't particularly want to. "After all I've done for you, you would dare make a request of me? A request to enter the royal family? Become Queen of Egypt?" He scowled at her as she fought to keep her eyes up as instructed. "You leave me no choice."

"M-my Pharaoh, my apologies, I shall go and we can never speak of this-" she rushed out, standing up and spinning to leave.

"Sit down." Atemu said sternly, freezing her midstep. "You sit right back down on that chair, little Mana."

Slowly, she forced herself to turn back around, then placed her rear back on the wooden seat, fear reflected in her large and expressive eyes as she looked up at the man she had served since she was eight.

"You want to know?" He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, cruel smirk. "You want to know the truth? Fine. I'll tell you everything. It's time anyway."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Atemu leered at her.

"Mana." He slowly raised his right hand to point to a carved bust of gold against the right wall, next to his bedroom door. "Do you see that golden bust, right there?"

She glanced over at it before nodding shortly.

"That is the likeness of my great-grandfather. It was once nothing but a formless blob of gold, and a sculptor took that blob and chiseled it into the shape it holds now." he explained. "And you know something, little Mana?" He leaned forward slightly. "You are no more human than that golden bust."

She dropped her eyes to the ground, pupils searching as if trying to find an explanation of his words on the floor. "Sir, forgive me, I-"

"Look at me!" he hissed, scowl returning to his features. Her eyes shot back up to meet his, allowing the unpleasant smile to make it's comeback. "You are no different than that golden bust. You have no more value than it in this world. You are not human, little Mana."

She took in a sharp breath, trying to settle herself.

"You're nothing but a clump of matter, designed to appear and act human. A clump of matter that me and Mahad molded, like the sculptor molded that bust."

At this, she could only stare in shock, jaw slack and eyes wide.

"You're not human. What you are has no name, for you are nothing. Just a creation I willed into existence to assist me in the wars." Atemu was now clearly smirking, almost enjoying her confusion and shock.

"It wasn't luck or coincidence that I happened upon the only being in the last several centuries capable of black magic. I started turning the wheels for your creation a year before you were even born." Atemu gave a mighty cough, swallowing hard before continuing. "I altered your father's seed, and he passed it on to your mother. From that seed would be born something unhuman, artificial, but capable of the art." He put his elbows up on the desk, leaning forward. "And that was you."

Slowly, she turned her head to look over at the golden bust, mind swimming with all matter of thoughts.

"I left you in the slums for eight years, to make sure you knew pain and suffering. Knew what it was like to go hungry. It guaranteed your obedience to me when I chose to retrieve you. You would do anything for me, anything to avoid getting sent back to the slums. And you didn't disappoint. How many millions have you killed just because I asked?" Atemu picked his reed pen up from the desk and flicked it toward Mana, striking her on the side of her head. "I want you to pay attention to me when I'm talking to you." he said, Mana quickly turning to look back at him.

"There. There's your truth, Mana. You're just a pile of matter, an imitation of a human being. And, as for your request." He gave a tiny snicker. "I will never permit you to enter the royal family. Your filthy gutter blood has no place among royalty. You're _lower_ than the lowest human, Mana. I would sooner let my son marry a scarab beetle, that beetle is more respectable a being than you."

Mana's eyes began to well up. He ignored it, pressing on with aplomb.

"You think I would let your pale imitation of blood enter my family's lineage? Pollute it? Pass it on to my grandchildren?" He gave a nasty chuckle as Mana slowly placed her hand on her lower neck, gently massaging it. "Do you think such a low form of life could ever sit by the side of us, descendants of the gods? No. No Mana, you belong at our feet. Right where you are. You're just a tool of my reign, that is your place. And you would be wise not to forget it, as you have forgotten it tonight."

He leaned back in the chair, pushing some of the hair out of his face.

"You're a subhuman being, Mana, and you've conducted yourself like one tonight. Coming to me and asking this of me after I have been so generous to you." He closed his eyes, tilting his head down slightly. "Your filth has no place amongst royalty. I have nothing else I want to say to you."

Slowly, with shaking legs, she stood up, a couple of loose tears flowing down her cheeks. She spun, not even bothering to bow, and swept out of the room in large purposeful strides. Atemu could hear her sniffling, and she started to break out into choked sobs as she pushed her way through the door.

Atemu took a deep breath, expelling it out slowly, listening to the faint sound of her sobs as she walked further and further away.

""""

The door flew open and slammed against the adjacent wall with such force Atemu thought his bedroom might be under attack again. He started up like a shot, eyes flying open to look around, heart accelerating faster than was healthy.

To his mild relief, Prince Ammon was the source of the disturbance, having stormed in with a scowl, rounding on Atemu.

"You...you...you rotten bastard!" He spat, pointing an accusing right index finger at his father. "How _dare_ you-"

"I am tired of shielding people from reality." Atemu swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You and Mana most of all."

"She told me what you said!" Ammon advanced further on his father as he stood up from his large mattress. "I had to drag it out of her, through her tears and shrieks and sobs! She cried herself to sleep last night, mumbling and babbling about being...being sub-human!"

"It will pass. And then, at least she will understand." Atemu replied evenly, flexing backwards to stretch out his back. "She'll know why she can never enter the royal family, I won't be plagued by this absurdity ever again."

"It'll...it'll pass? It'll pass? No, no!" He grabbed Atemu's nightrobes by the collar, bunching up the fabric in his fingers. "You are going right over to her, this very instant, and taking it back! You will apologize, and take back every last word you said! You will say you're sorry a thousand times if that's what it takes for Mana to believe it! You will get down on your hands and knees and beg for her to accept your apology if that's what it takes!" He pushed his father back onto the bed roughly, Atemu only watching with a bemused look on his face. "You're going to do it, or so help me Ra-"

"Ra has no interest in helping you, Ammon." Atemu replied coldly. "None of the gods do. They're all disgusted that it's you who has to carry the family lineage. I take back nothing."

In a flash, Ammon ripped his right fist across his chest, landing an emphatic hook into his father's left cheek. The force of the blow knocked him back into a laying position, though he displayed no emotion.

"You...you're going to take it all back...if it's the last thing I-"

"It's the truth." Atemu pushed himself back into a sitting position. "She's not human. She's not a creation of the gods. She's just a tool I fashioned. That's my reason. You wanted so badly to know, there you are."

"I don't care what you think!" Ammon grunted, hands balled into fists at his sides.

"It's what I know. This isn't some pet theory, I did it myself with Mahad." Atemu stood up. "We poured through volumes and volumes of scripture and texts, figured out the potion that would alter the seed, slowly bred our creation from afar-"

"She still came from a seed." Ammon countered through gritted teeth. "She was born of a man and woman, you said so yourself."

"She is still subhuman. I fashioned her for use in the wars, much like one might fashion a sword." He folded his arms. "I would no sooner let Mana become Queen than I would a sword."

"Subhuman?" Ammon repeated, shaking with fury now. "I know her, father! I've known her for fifteen years! I have gotten to know her in every way two humans can get to know each other! You're going to tell me that...that wonderful person I've had the joy of knowing all these years is...sub-human?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Atemu turned to his bedside table, walking over it and grabbing the large diamond ring from it, slipping it onto his right ring finger. "I made her myself, me and Mahad."

"Look! All...all I know is what I can see! You prick her, she bleeds! You tickle her, she laughs! You hurt her, she cries! That's human!" Ammon continued to chase his father around the room, not letting him get away.

"I am not giving my blessing, and that's final." Atemu pushed past his son, headed toward the bathroom. "I will not be forced to answer for such a decision in the afterlife. My ancestors are waiting for me in the land of the two fields, I will not answer for letting something sub-human like Mana into the royal family."

"What? You think that Mana would choose your approval over our love?" he shouted, glaring at the back of his father. "You have no idea, father! No idea! She'll forget your name when you're in the ground, it'll just be me and her!"

"Mana knows pain, my son. Mana knows what it is to sleep on the streets, eat out of the garbage, barely getting enough to survive. It's you who has no idea. She'd never go against my wishes, not after what I did for her." He disappeared into the restroom, slipping the door shut behind him.

"You would _dare_ accuse anyone else of being sub-human?" He seethed, charging up to the door. "You're the monster!"

"I am not discussing this." Atemu called out from the other room. "There's nothing to discuss."

Ammon looked around, still shaking with anger, glaring at the bronze door to the bathroom. He remained there for several seconds, not sure what to do, until the Pharaoh reappeared.

"You just wait." He growled. "With or without your support, Mana _will_ be my wife. She will be Queen. When I sit on the throne as Pharaoh, I'll be calling the shots."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Atemu simply walked past him, pushing hair out of his face with his fingers. "I'll be making an official announcement shortly. Consider yourself relieved of your responsibilities as heir to the throne."

Dumbfounded, Ammon was even momentarily knocked out of his rage, a stupid expression on his face as he stared at his father.

"I'm naming Wati as my heir. It's better this way, for everyone. He's proven to be cut from the Pharaoh cloth, the sort of person who can inspire confidence in a country. And you seem more interested in writing your poetry and your stories than in becoming Pharaoh, now you can do that all day." Atemu explained.

"You...you'd pass the throne on to a bastard child, born to a slave girl? That...that prepubescent brat?" Ammon sputtered. "That whiny, entitled, tantrum-throwing _child_?"

"Wati is exceptionally brilliant. You should learn to respect him." Atemu said simply, sitting down on the foot of his bed. "He came from the seed of my cousin, advisor and friend."

"He's a _blight_ on humanity!" Ammon interjected. "His mere existence is offensive! A High Priest and a slave girl? The creation of such a union should be burned alived, reduced to ashes! You talk of 'polluting the lineage', and yet you'd _hand_ the throne to that...that bastard?"

"Wati has proven his merit. He's proven his worth." Atemu countered coolly. "He's already been very valuable to my reign and showcased enormous abilities."

"AND MANA HASN'T?" Ammon roared, hands extended out to his sides.

"Wati has the blood of the gods running through his veins all the same. And regardless of the circumstances of his birth, he is still a human. Something that Mana will never be." Atemu snorted. "Honestly I'm disappointed you still want to marry her now that you know-"

"You filthy hypocrite!" Ammon stormed toward the door. "Just imagine what your ancestors are going to think when they find out you've given the throne to a fourteen year old bastard child!"

"It's more than just a coincidence that Wati came to me just as I was preparing to step down." Atemu replied confidently. "The gods want this. As do my ancestors. Wati was meant to take the throne, I'm sure of it. He will ensure another era of strong leadership, the strength of his seed will increase the odds of future strong heirs."

Ammon turned back around to glare at his father.

"I'm sorry son. But I have to work with what I have. It's the way I'd prefer to have it." Atem said matter-of-factly.

In disbelief, Ammon looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Okay. Fine. Give Wati the throne. I...I don't care. Give to one of Isis's cats for all I care."

"It's for the better." Atemu insisted. "You'll be happier without the responsibility. I know you don't believe it right now, but I care for you very much."

"Alright. You care for me. Prove it." He turned his body around to square with the Pharaoh. "If you're not going to give me the throne, then it doesn't matter who I...put my seed in. So let me have Mana. Let me have her and you'll never hear another word of complaint pass my lips about you giving the throne to Wati."

"You are still royalty, and will be held to the same standards." Atemu crossed his arms over his chest. "Absolutely not."

With a frustrated groan, Ammon turned around, grabbing the door and yanking it open. "You're a foul man, you know?" he hissed, standing in the doorway. "You had no right to be so nasty to her yesterday! She's served your every whim for the last fifteen years without a word!"

Atemu glanced down at the floor, sucking his right cheek inbetween his teeth. "I...I regret the way I said what I said last night. I was...drunk, I was out of control. But I do not regret what I said. And I won't take any of it back. At least now, she knows why she can never enter the royal family. And she will come to accept it."

"Well, I won't!" Ammon grabbed the door frame, shooting a scowl back at Atemu. "If you possessed a single drop of decency you'd at least apologize for being so cruel!"

"If I had the opportunity to do it again, I would say it diffferently." Atemu shrugged. "But I'm not apologizing and I'm not taking anything back. That's my final word."

"This isn't over, Atemu." Ammon snarled, grabbing the door. "Mark my words, you're going to _pay_ for this foolishness." he slammed the door shut as hard as he could, shaking the room and sending a powerful crash through the palace.


	7. Sins of the Father

Chapter Seven: Sins of the Father

The door creeked open, Atemu timidly poking his head through the door into the small stone confession room. High Priestess Isis sat on the stool across the room, legs crossed, hands in her lap.

"You...you called for me?" he asked with trepidation, slowly stepping into the room. "This is most unusual." Slowly, he approached her, taken aback by her hard glare at him. She did not move an inch from her sitting position even as he got closer and closer. "While I...I do want our relationship to be friendly, I am not entirely comfortable with you summoning me."

She glanced down at the red pillow in front of her for a half second, then resumed her glare at the Pharaoh.

"I...I don't have anything to confess, Isis." He forced out a tiny laugh, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with this interaction. "I actually...feel good today."

She slowly extended her right hand out in front of her, index finger pointed down at the cushion on the floor, face still void of all emotion.

"A-about last night." Atemu continued to take slow strides toward her, willing himself to appear confident as he knew he should be by all rights. "It was...I was going through a tough time, I acted rashly. I think it would be best if we both forgot about it."

He stopped right in front of the cushion and stood there, Isis still not saying a word. She dropped her hand back to her lap, then looked down at the red pillow expectantly.

"Isis, please, I'm the Pharaoh!" He exclaimed, a nervous smile on his face. "I...this isn't...what did you want with me? Please, I have something important to do today."

She looked back up at him, large eyes boring into his skull, making his stomach turn.

"Well...I...alright." Slowly, he went down to his knees, planting them into the cushioned cloth. "I suppose if...if that's what you really want, I-"

With a sudden movement of her right arm, she slapped her open palm hard against Atemu's left cheek, turning his head slightly to the right. He stared at the floor for a few seconds, then rotated his eyes back to Isis.

With another whip of her arm, she smacked his left cheek again, aggravating the small red welt already there. Atemu blinked a couple times, then turned back to her.

She raised her right arm again, but this time Atemu caught it in his left before it found it's mark, tightly gripping the wrist between his fingers.

"You forget yourself, High Priestess." He menaced, pushing her arm back towards her. "I am still the Pharaoh, you-"

"If you're so offended, by all means, relieve me of my duties. I welcome it." Isis rasped in a low voice.

"I...I'm not going to-" he stammered, glancing down at the floor nervously.

"Then cease your empty, worthless threats." She snapped. "Shame on you, Pharaoh."

"Isis." He bowed his head in shame. "I know. I have tortured myself for years, regretting my choice, wishing I could take it back with every fiber of my being. I will live with that guilt for the rest of my days."

"As you rightfully deserve." Isis replied coldly.

"I know!" he grunted. "I know what I did was terrible, you don't have to tell me! I...I wish there was a way to make it right, but...but there isn't."

"That's only one of your sins, Atemu." Isis continued to glare down at him. "Mana visited me this morning, still crying. She told me everything."

Atemu stood up from his kneeling position, even as Isis gave him a nasty scowl. "I did what I had to do. I need to protect the sanctity of the royal family!"

"That girl has been nothing but sweet and obedient from the moment you first met her." She crossed her arms over her chest. "She didn't deserve that."

He looked back down at the floor, eyes darting around guiltily. "I...I was drunk-"

"Are you still so?" She interrupted, again causing Atemu's eyebrows to raise at her boldness and disrespect. "I have heard you refuse to apologize."

"Apologizing would be a show of weakness I can not afford." He said strongly, locking his glare onto her eyes. "At the very least, it guarantees Mana will never accept Ammon's marriage proposal."

"If you possess any manner of compassion or empathy at all, you do a most wonderful job of concealing it." Isis narrowed her eyes. "I can't believe it took me all these years to find out how cold you truly are."

"I wish I could have said what I said differently." He closed his eyes, thinking back to his nasty conversation with Mana. "But now that it has been said, there is nothing I can do. I will not give Mana anything that can be construed as me having a change of heart on this matter."

"And the girl's feelings mean nothing in all this, I suppose." Isis shot back.

"Mana's feelings are secondary to the continued strength and respectability of the royal family." Atemu insisted. "That's my final word."

"Respectability?" Isis unfolded her legs and stood up, drawing herself to her full height which was still pitifully less than Atemu's. "Rumor has it you've named Wati as your heir, and you speak of respectability?"

"Wati will make an exceptional Pharaoh, he has all the tools and talents." Atemu glanced behind him at the door, checking to make entirely sure the room was vacated beyond him and Isis.

"He's fourteen." Isis said flatly. "And a bastard child. And born to a foreign slave girl. And a brat."

"Look...we've seen it! Both of us! He's got enormous potential, he's very smart-"

"You already have an heir. Do you think so little of Ammon you would strip him of the throne?" Isis looked disdainfully at the Pharaoh, a look that would have earned a lesser mortal a death penalty. "I know you and him have had some differences, but this is the ultimate insult to him."

"He doesn't even want the throne." Atemu countered through gritted teeth. "He'd rather write poetry all day...you think I like this?"

"You've romanticized Wati and blinded yourself to reality." Isis retorted.

"Reality?" Atemu repeated. "Here's reality. My son is passionate about only two things in life. The first is hating me, the second is behaving like some hopeless romantic. _That's_ my reality! He possesses no leadership qualities, no notable intelligence, no...no interest in even taking the throne!"

"Perhaps he simply has a poor role model serving as Pharaoh." Isis's eyes narrowed at the insult.

"Isis, I understand and am willing to forgive your malice towards me at this very moment, but you are entirely too bold." He warned. "Do not forget your-"

"I am not afraid of you, Atemu." Isis hissed. "Do not try to intimidate me. You want me as your advisor, this is how I choose to advise you."

"Wati is...he's everything." Atemu sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I wish...I wish my son could be more like him. I wish it could be that simple! I wish I didn't have to do this, but I do! The gods desire it!"

"The gods?" Isis sneered. "The gods want you to dirty the throne with a fourteen year old bratty bastard?"

"That-that's a hateful term, Isis." Atemu chided seriously. "It's not his fault how he was born, all that matters now is what he can be. I wish you wouldn't call him that-"

"I'm not calling him _anything_. That's what he is." Isis said nastily. "The gods do not want the throne to leave the direct line it has remained in for hundreds of years, that I can promise you. You are truly delusional if you think that."

"Am I to believe it is simply a coincidence that Wati showed up as I was preparing to step down? That he would appear mere days after Seto left us? That he would showcase his incredible potential as it was time for me to make my decision?" Atemu looked up at the ceiling. "It's a sign, Isis. They want this. This is how they want it to happen. This is how the gods want me to redeem myself."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Atemu. Are you entirely sure you're not still drunk?"

"As surely as I have ever known anything, I know this." he allowed a small smile to cross his face. "I have begged for a way to ease my guilt for years and years, and now this son of Seto appears to me? It's a sign."

"Or a test." She retorted, eyebrows slanting inward. "One you are failing. You are displaying your true colors, _Pharaoh_, proving that deep down you are still obsessed with power and status."

"Isis, that's quite enough." Atemu said sternly. "I have withstood your insults and derision to this point, but-"

"I have _had it _with your empty threats!" She spat, now more malicious than she had ever been in her entire life. "If you have the guts to punish me, do it right now!" She spread her hands out to her sides. "Don't even say another word! Do it now, or do it never!"

Atemu simply stood there, furious at himself for lacking the nerve to actually follow through on any punishment. What was he supposed to do to his High Priestess? Whip her? She certainly deserved it, but...no. It was ridiculous to even consider.

"I have sworn to dedicate my life to serving you, Pharaoh." she said, putting her arms back at her sides and speaking in a much more level voice. "And I will uphold that oath no matter what. It is only because of that oath that I have made an attempt to advise you today. But make no mistake, Pharaoh. You _disgust_ me. You and your double-talking hypocrisy, your delusions of grandeur, I will not sit by and attempt to put a happy face on all of it!"

"I'm not surprised you don't understand, Isis." Atemu seethed. "You're a _woman._"

Her eyes flew open in shock. "How _dare_ you!"

"I do dare, High Priestess." Atemu retorted, the corners of his mouth twitching. "There's a reason why it has always been a man sitting on the throne, there are things here that you simply can't see."

"I see that there will be no changing your mind, Pharaoh." she fumed. "No one can say that I did not try to warn you."

"Seto would have understood." Atemu turned to leave. "He would have seen it."

"If you mean to imply you wish I had been taken into the afterlife in place of Seto, come right out and say it." Isis watched him depart, eyes on the back of his head.

Atemu had no response to this, choosing to leave the conversation hanging there as he shut the door behind him.

""""

"It's where you belong, Wati. I'm sure of it." Atemu said to the tall, well-built youth standing at attention in front of him, him seated on the edge of his bed. "I have known you for a short time, but you've shown me everything I need to see."

"I am honored that you would consider this, Uncle." Wati held his gaze right at Atemu, careful to not do anything considered disrespectful. "If you were to give me the throne, I assure you Egypt would be in good hands."

"You have already assured that with your actions." Atemu stood up. "You will make a fine Pharaoh. Even the gods know this, they want this."

"You won't regret this." He nodded. "I've read every scroll there is on the history of the throne, all of the wonderful achievements of your lineage. I will live up to it."

"I still need to conclude my businesses of course, but you should begin making whatever preparations you feel you need to take the throne."

"Of course." Wati reached up to tug at the collar of his robe. "Uncle-"

"Good. I'll set up an announcement for later this afternoon, you'll be there?" Atemu clapped his hand on Wati's back, as he nervously looked down at the floor.

"Um, Uncle, there's one thing I should say before we...before we go any further into this." Wati stiffened noticably.

"Of course." He dropped his hand back to his side. "What is it?"

"It's...it's about your daughter. Asenath." He grimaced.

""""

"Dad, I swear I just wanted to meet him over lunch." Asenath said quickly, looking down into her lap. "I heard he was my cousin...they said he was fourteen, so I thought-"

"He is quite a specimen." Atemu said wryly, looking back at the nervously standing-at-attention Wati just a few steps in from the doorway.

She went a little red, still looking at her folded hands in her lap from her seat on the edge of her bed. "We haven't done...done anything, I swear. We've just talked...talked a lot."

"I guess the concern would be what you two have been talking about." Atemu raised an eyebrow. "You do understand that both of you had the same great-grandfather? That's only three generations."

"I know, I know." she mumbled. "We haven't...haven't done anything, but-"

"I felt I needed to be completely honest with you, Uncle." Wati stepped in. "Nothing's happened yet, but...well, I like your daughter very much and I think I know where this is headed."

"I appreciate the honesty, Wati." Atemu gave a small smile. Wati and Asenath shared a quick glance. They had both expected him to be angry. "Now, such a relationship is...legal, of course. Yet both of you seem to understand the questionable morality."

"I would hate to do anything to bring shame to the royal family." Wati wringed his hands together. "And I have read about the dangers of...well, inbreeding-"

"Getting a little ahead of ourselves?" Atemu interrupted. "Already thinking about children? Are you entirely sure you haven't done anything yet?"

"I merely want to...consider all angles." Wati justified lamely. "There'd be no point in continuing this if it might end up in a place that you find unacceptable."

Atemu folded his arms, shrugging. "It's certainly iffy. Three generations...I wouldn't be horribly concerned about inbreeding. And it's certainly legal." He snickered. "It would hardly be the royal family's..._proudest_ moment."

"I would understand if you wanted us to end this." Wati said quickly, even as Asenath frowned.

"On the other hand...it would make you my son-in-law."

Asenath stared at her father with wide eyes, shocked. "Father, we have no immediate intention of-"

"Wati, the prospect of you becoming my son is too tempting to pass up. I'm going to let this play out." He announced, moving back towards his nephew. "The history scholars will prefer me handing the throne off to my son-in-law rather than my nephew."

"Uncle, I thank you, but me and Asenath have no immediate plans to...I mean, we haven't even-"

"You would not have brought this to my intention if you didn't think things were about to get serious." He said shortly, winking at Wati, a smile on his face. "I'll get some wedding invitations written up then?"

"Father!" Asenath exasperated, eyes squeezed shut in frustration, face now a bright red. "Please!"

"Oh come now. Jokes, jokes." He patted Wati on the shoulder. "See you in the entrance hall in a little bit?"

"Of course." He nodded. "I'll change and be down there."

"Come up with a little something to say too." He pointed at Wati's chest. "Doesn't have to be much, just make these people feel good about this."

"I will."

Atemu turned to look back at his daughter, gave her a wink, and departed her bedroom.

""""

The corners of Ishizu's mouth twitched as she recalled the events of just moments ago. She had just returned from the Pharaoh's surprise announcement, in which Atemu had made his absurd decision official. She had known it was coming, but to watch it actually happen in front of the entire world made her ill.

She was seated on her simple stone stool, legs crossed under her and arms out to the side. Her mind flew, with some distaste, toward the fact that she would be expected to serve as the senior member of the inner circle for Wati. A fourteen year old bastard child with anger management problems. An insult to the throne.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The gods would certainly never stand for this. Atemu's ancestors would never stand for this. They'd see Atemu suffer for this foolishness. He would know their displeasure, she was sure of it.

And as blasphemous as the thought was, she knew when that retribution came down upon the man she served, there would be a part of her that would feel satisfaction. After all, she had done her job. She had advised him, in no uncertain terms, that this was folly and that the gods would not stand for it. He had rejected her, blinded by delusions of grandeur.

Suddenly, her mind was swarmed by visions. She winced, but then began to quickly sort through the things she was seeing and hearing. Atemu...on his knees? Where was he? A small, simple room with a coffin-a tomb? Whose tomb?

_"But...my children. Ammon and Asenath. Please, spare them. Don't take them from me."_

Isis listened intently to Atemu's words, momentarily forgetting her question concerning whose tomb this was. This had to be important, why else it would be coming to her now? The scene got hazy for a split second before reforming.

_"I'm beyond redemption, I accept that, I will face those consequences without a word of complaint when my time comes, I swear it."_

When was this? Was this the future? The present? The past? Again, the haze faded everything out before returning.

_"Please, protect my children, let no harm come to them. Let them die of old age, long after I am gone, warm in their beds with a long lifetime of achievements and experiences. I swear, there will be a peace. I will do everything within my power to solidify this peace, and Egypt will know a prosperity it has never known before. Just...just please. Please, protect my children, and I swear I will leave behind nothing but peace and prosperity when I step down."_

And just like that, the moment passed, and she was back in her small meditation chamber, nothing but plain gray stone surrounding her.

She had seen the past. Not too far in the past. It had been either Seto's tomb or Mahad's tomb, from the vague details of the room she guessed Mahad's.

Her throat tightened as she ran his words back through her mind.

He was worse off than even she could have guessed. She had seen him at his lowest point, weeping and begging on the floor of her confessional, but this...he was convinced the gods were punishing him and was terrified they would take his children next?

He was mentally compromised, no more capable of handing the duties of a Pharaoh than one of her pet cats. And now he was breaking his promise to the gods, unwittingly, having placed the life of his children on that promise...

His children would pay the price for his foolishness. It was the only way. He had already accepted any torment that fell on him was the price he paid for his earlier sins. This was the last thing he truly valued, the last thing that could truly be taken away from him.

She had seen the darker side of Wati. He was smart and conniving, always acting with the utmost respect around Pharaoh Atemu, giving him reason to believe he could be tamed. Isis had seen, and had heard, of his anger problems. He was violent, predisposed to solving problems through physical means and voice volume.

_"I swear I will leave behind nothing but peace and prosperity when I step down."_

There would be no peace with Wati on the throne. Her elderly gut instinct knew it. He was too practical, too much a man of cold logic. He had been raised by scrolls. He would have no respect for Atemu's peace treaty, and would break it in a second if given the chance.

And it wouldn't be Atemu who suffered for it. Or at least, not directly.

She was ready to let Atemu lay in the bed that he had made, but not like this. She unfolded her legs and stood up.

She had to try to talk some sense into him one last time.


	8. Peace

Chapter Eight: Peace

Isis violently shoved the door inwards, stepping into the room without waiting for any sort of permission or recognition. Atemu stood opposite the door, looking out the large windows that made up a good portion of the far wall, down at the dispersing mass of people in his grand courtyard.

"People are expected to knock before entering my bedchamber-" he monotoned, turning around slowly. As soon as he caught sight of Isis's slim build in her white robes, he silenced himself, eyes wide in surprise.

"I'm not playing your games, Pharaoh." she said, approaching him quickly. "I have lost all taste for actual enjoyment of serving you, and do so only because I swore a lifelong commitment to it."

"Isis." He cocked his head to the right. "I didn't expect to see you so-"

"Atemu. Listen to me very closely." She leaned closer to him, right fist raised up by the side of her head. "You are a cold, rotten man who deserves to suffer. I have already made an attempt to advise you the best I can, and would normally take this time to sit back and watch you reap what you have sown."

"Isis, please." Atemu cast his eyes downward shamefully. "I will never stop feeling shame and regret for what I did to Teana, I will pay for it every day for the rest of my life. I have been paying for it for years. You don't need to tell me this, I know. Isis, if you could just...find it in your heart to-"

"No." Isis replied sternly. "Absolutely not. We're not talking about that."

She paused, Atemu glancing up at her for a moment before going back to the floor.

"I am here, not for you, but for your children." she continued. "I know what you've done, Pharaoh. And it's your greatest sin yet. I know you're blind to it. You can't even see it coming."

"We've already discussed this." Atemu glanced out the window behind him, watching the distant Egyptians slowly leave his courtyard. "My son will be happier without the responsibility of-"

"You swore, Pharaoh. You swore to the gods that you'd guarantee a peace. That you'd do everything in your power to bring about peace." Isis narrowed her eyes.

He slowly turned back to look at her, eyebrows raised in suspicion. "What are you-"

"I've seen it." Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "You swore on their lives you'd do everything you could to create worldwide peace."

Atemu blinked a few times, then shook his head. "What do you think I'm doing? I've ended the war, I'm making peace with all our enemies, I'm...what is this nonsense?"

"There will be no peace with Wati on the throne." She allowed a tiny quantum of pleading to enter her expression. "You'd know that if you weren't blinded by your idealized image of him that you've substituted for reality."

"Wati is fine, I don't want to hear about any more." Atemu said sternly. "I don't understand-"

"Wati will use your peace treaty as a dinner napkin!" Isis said, eyes hardening again. "Wati is a bean counter, not a leader. The first thing on his mind after taking the throne will be eliminating all of his competition in foreign lands."

"You assume too much." Atemu gave her a small smile that he quickly wiped away. "Wati has shown he respects me, if nothing else, and he will honor my peace treaty."

"He will see _nothing_ but poorly-defended, well-developed tracts of lands ripe for the taking!" Isis countered through gritted teeth. "He will send the armies of Egypt to take back what you have sold and burn the remaining scraps of foreign land to the ground."

"Isis, you're being ridiculous." Atemu rubbed his eyes with his right hand. "I know he has...I don't know, anger problems, but he's not stupid-"

"Egypt is ten times bigger and a hundred times more powerful than any other country in the civililzed world." Isis stepped closer to the Pharaoh, face taking on a slight hue of pinkish red. "There is everything to be gained and nothing to be lost here, as far as Wati is concerned it would be stupid _not_ to break the treaty. He will, and you will have broken your promise to the gods."

"Isis, I know what I'm doing! M-maybe Wati isn't perfect, maybe he has a couple problems, but I've already made my decision!" he snapped. "He respects me, he respects my work, and he'll honor the treaty if I tell him to!"

"The gods will come to claim what you have put at stake." Isis said cryptically, knuckles going white at her sides. "I would not be here right now if it wasn't for that. Your children are innocent, they have nothing to do with any of this. If you continue down this path, they'll be the ones who pay."

"The gods _want_ this, Isis. Why would they play games with Egypt? They have given Wati to me as a gift, a worthy heir! If they would punish me for anything, it would be for ignoring this treat they're waving right in front of my face!"

"Atemu." She leaned forward, expression unreadable and flat. "This pains me, but I feel I have to do it. Atemu, I am _begging_ you, don't do this. Please, _please_, listen to me. Come back to reality. I am the High Priestess of Egypt, I pray to the gods every single day, _I have been put on Earth for no other reason than to translate and deliver the will of the gods._ If you will not see reason, then see me! If you give Wati the throne, you _will_ lose your children. I promise it. Turn back from this folly now before it's too late!"

"Your input is appreciated, High Priestess." Atemu replied coldly, turning away to look back out the window. "Why don't you let me worry about my children? I'm not going to have this argument any more." He folded his arms.

She stared at him for several seconds, jaw quivering. "I-"

"Isis." He looked over his shoulder, back at the door, before returning his attentions to his courtyard.

She shook her head, then purposefully marched towards that door. "May the gods have mercy on your children." She snapped irately over her shoulder.

""""

"Ladies and Gentlemen." Atemu stood up from the chair, pushing it back a few inches with the backs of his legs. "That will conclude our business." He rolled up a long scroll splayed out in front of him. "A grand total of eight and seven tenths billion gold debens worth is due to Egypt in the next fifteen days. I have a healthy amount of faith in all of you to live up to your ends of the bargain, so I'll begin evacuating those lands of my subjects immediately. Should my faith be broken, I will be charging a one percent interest fee per day. If anyone goes overdue by a hundred days, well, the full might of Egypt will descend on you and take back more than just the land. Is that acceptable to all of you?"

Everyone grudgingly nodded.

"Of course, a further six and two tenths billion gold debens worth are due to Egypt in precisely five years and fifteen days. Anyone who's so much as a moment late gets charged fifty percent interest. I'm going to assume every single person at this table completely understands my terms, so I will not hesitate to assume the worst if I don't receive payments in a timely fashion." Atemu took the rolled up parchment and placed it within his robes. "That will conclude our business, gentlemen."

"It's been a true joy." Homer remarked dryly.

"The pleasure has been all mine." Atemu gave a tiny mock bow. "Anyone who would like to wait until morning before departing is more than welcome to do so."

"I think not." Can replied shortly, turning and walking towards the exit out into the main lobby. "I've seen quite enough of Egypt."

Atemu turned and marched away from the table, hearing the scrapes and scratches of the others get up. Hot on his heels was his aide, carrying a series of scrolls under his arm.

As soon as they departed the room, Atem turned to the aide, realizing he didn't even know his name.

"Thank you, uh...you." he stammered.

"Seth, sir." he filled in quickly. "Seth."

"Right, right. Seth." Atemu nodded. "I appreciate you helping me with this the last few days, it's a lot of work. Not easy."

"It was a pleasure." Seth insisted. "And an honor."

"It's...it's nothing against you, I know I've said some things...you're fantastic, I mean that. It's just that...I had hoped Isis would be there with me during my final act as Pharaoh, she being...well, my old friend and High Priestess."

Seth nodded rapidly, afraid to say anything.

"She'll...she'll be alright, it's just...personal stuff, she'll be alright." Atemu mumbled distractedly. "So, what's the latest?"

"The trenches are very nearly done. Construction on the actual wall has begun to the east. It's an incredible wall, sir. Exactly to the specifications you ordered."

Atemu began to slowly meander down the hall. "Wonderful."

"It will be...decades before it's finished, of course. But it will stand until the ends of time." Seth fell into step behind him. "And all of your other bills are being put into action as we speak."

"Very good. You're dismissed." Atemu motioned him away with his right hand. "Good job Seth. I do appreciate all the work you did."

""""

"Mana, theater is really taking off in Egypt. It's taking off across the civilized world. You've seen my foul papers, I know we could make a good living in the playwright business!" Ammon explained, standing at the threshold of the balcony in his bedroom, looking out at Mana who was leaning against the railing, looking up into the sky. "I could pump out...two, maybe three prompt books a year, they'll get a feel for my stuff, I'll be making...Mana, are you listening?"

"I can't leave." Mana said mournfully. "I can't. You could be a great playwright, I know you could, but...I can't leave against his wishes."

"Mana, you heard what he said!" Ammon stepped out onto the balcony towards her. "You're nothing to him! He thinks you're dirt! To hell with him!"

"Maybe I am dirt." Mana replied, hanging her head down. "Honey, I'm sorry. All those...those things he said, all those things he called me, I know, I heard all of it. But it doesn't matter. I still owe him everything."

"You don't owe him a thing!" Ammon came to lean against the balcony next to her. "You've spent most of your life conjuring up magic for him! Without you, he'd be nothing! Without your magic, he would have been killed ten years ago and Egypt wouldn't even exist anymore! He owes you! And...and you're not dirt."

"Honey. I've seen the other half. I lived the other half. I know the difference. If you knew it like I did, you'd understand." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"Mana, this is _your_ palace! Not his! He gave it to you! You can leave it if you want! You don't owe my dad shit!" Ammon continued, almost yelling now. "I'm...I'm sorry." He took a deep breath, calming himself. "You come with me, we can move close to the borders, and we can have a decent life. I promise you, we'll live a good life together. I'll...I'll find some way to make it work. My dad...my dad won't come looking for me, he doesn't give a crap about me. And he doesn't need you anymore."

"I-I can't." she blubbered, putting her hand over her face. "I know you could make it work. I know you'd be a wonderful husband and you'd find a way. It's not that, it's...not without his blessing. He said he wouldn't...he wouldn't give it. And I know he wouldn't want me to run away. I'm sorry, but...I can't go with you. Even after everything he said...I owe him everything. I swore on everything I would serve him for my entire life. I can't break that."

Ammon turned around and looked off into the distance, shaking his head. "I...I don't get it. He called you subhuman. He thinks you're an object. An object, Mana! He thinks you're a piece of equipment!"

"What would you call me?" She turned away from the railing, listlessly walking back towards her room. "I was created from a magic potion to be able to cast spells. I am equipment, Ammon. I may not like it, but I can see it. Your father's right. He didn't say anything wrong. He...he just told me the truth." Slowly she stepped back into her bedroom, sweeping her slippered feet along the thin green carpet. Ammon followed her. "Why should I break my oath to him because he told me the truth?"

"Mana." Ammon huffed a large breath. "Mana, he's...he doesn't know what he's talking about. He's just an ass. You're-you're a person! A beautiful person! He's just jealous, he wishes he was as good a person as you were!"

She sat down on her white-sheet covered bed heavily. "Honey. I can't run away with you. I just can't, it's not possible. I can't break my oath, and I can't go against his word."

Ammon grimaced, then marched across the room over to the door. "I...well, I don't get it. I really don't."

"I'm sorry." Mana squeaked out, eyes watering again.

"No. I'm sorry."

""""

"I've always been one who emphasized creativity." Atemu said, his voice booming over the great mass of people in the courtyard of his palace. He stood at the top of his marble stairs, standing up straight and hands clenched behind his back. At his right was Wati, half a step back. "I've done many unconventional things during my reign, and I feel it's mostly worked out. Egypt has benefitted from the innovations of the minds at it's head in the past few decades. So with this in mind, I have decided the pragmatic move for the throne is to make the most unusual choice yet."

Most of the people in attendance couldn't hear him. Perhaps only the first few dozen rows. He thought on that issue for a brief half-second. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a way to transmit sound over greater distances? He gave his head a tiny shake, returning his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

"The throne has remained within my direct family line for hundreds of years. It's become as traditional as Favor Day or Tax Collection. But sometimes, change is appropriate. Sometimes, change is called for. And sometimes, yes, change is necessary." He threw his right arm onto Wati's shoulder and pushed him forward slightly. "Wati's pedigree should not be doubted, of course, he came from my brother and High Priest. But he's proven to be much more than a man of good genes."

Three weeks had past since the closing of negotiations. All of the money due to him had come in. Every one of his proposals was being acted on. He had never felt so proud of anything in his life, and that was saying something. He felt now was the time. Egypt's place in the world had been solidified, perhaps forever. Truthfully, he suspected that even Ammon would have a hard time screwing up the kingdom he was leaving behind, but he was genuinely excited to see how Wati would do with the title of Pharaoh.

"He's a brilliant mind, a physical specimen, and a born leader. He is cut from the Pharaoh cloth. I believe that his recent appearance to us is a sign from the gods. A sign that they want this unconventional decision. That they desire the throne to be passed diagonally rather than straight down. And I am not one to deny the gods."

Atemu plucked a large, ruby and emerald-encrusted ring from his right ring finger and held it up into the sky. "And so, it is with great honor that I step down from the throne and my title of Pharaoh. From this moment forward, Wati is the new Pharaoh of Egypt!" With that, he handed the ring to Wati, who immediately put it on his right ring finger. The massive audience immediately erupted into applause, and Wati confidently waved out at them.

A short distance away, Isis watched the scene through a small window in one of the towers of her palace. Her nostrils flared at the sight. She cringed. She had hoped against all hope that he might come to his senses, realize how foolish this was, and go try to save his relationship with his son. She pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window, groaning as Wati began to give a short speech to the crowd.

"Oh, Atemu, you fool." she muttered. "You deluded old fool."


	9. Fish in a Barrel

Chapter Nine: Fish in a Barrel

"Honey, believe me, I'm thrilled about this." Atemu said, bouncing on his heels. Asenath was standing a few steps into the room, wringing her hands in front of her. "I am, you don't have to be nervous. You really don't!"

"Well, I...I'm not dumb, I know this whole thing is very weird. He's...well, you know." Asenath glanced down at the floor.

"Hey, hey. It's legal. What, you think law enforcement is gonna crash your wedding and arrest you two? You could marry your brother and they wouldn't do that." Atemu went up next to her and pulled her close. "Hey, I think it's fantastic you've taken such a liking to Wati. He rubs some people the wrong way, I think it's great that you two get along."

"It's very relieving to me that you endorse this." Asenath nodded. "I...well, I really felt horrible about the whole thing."

"Nothing to feel bad about at all. In fact, this makes things much easier for me!" Atemu clapped his hands together in front of him. "So, I want this wedding to happen as soon as possible. I'd like to make it happen in ten days, in fact. I believe it's possible if we move as quickly as we can."

Asenath slowly fingered the hem of her dress. "I...I never thought you'd be so enthusiastic about this."

"Darling. As a Pharaoh, I am very concerned with my legacy and perception of me by everyone else. And regardless of all I have done, me passing the throne on to my bastard nephew is...well, the historians will certainly not be kind to me there. But, passing it on to my son-in-law, that's something else entirely. It'll take a little revisonist history, but what's a few weeks?" He threw his hands out to his sides. "Makes things very easy for me." He started to back out of the room. "If you have any particular requests, just talk to Sacmis, she'll put something together for you. No, trust me, this makes things so much easier for me, and I'm so happy for you."

""""

"This has to be perfect. The whole thing." Atemu threw his hands around the courtyard of the palace. The area had been vacated, and they were standing a few steps outside the entrance to the palace. "Asenath's being a team player, she deserves it. If Ammon wants to be a brat, fine. Maybe he'll learn something about how to be a team player if he has to watch his sister have the grandest wedding in Egyptian history."

"Of course, sir," Sacmis bowed. "It'll be as perfect as yours was, years ago."

Atemu paused for a moment, then gave his head a small shake. "I want it better than that one. Bigger and better. And, Sacmis?"

"Yes, sir?"

He looked around the empty courtyard, then leaned in slightly. "Nobody mentions incest. Not a word. I don't want to hear a word about how Asenath and Wati are second cousins. No one involved in the planning of the wedding, none of the guests, no one. Spread the word. I don't want to hear anything about it. Anyone who mentions it needs to be punished."

"Of course, sir. Such talk will not pollute that wonderous occasion. I doubt anyone even cares, to be honest." Sacmis nodded. "But I'll make it clear."

"Oh...oh, they care. Trust me. Anything to make the history books recall me a little less fondly. But it's all for the best. Wati'll be ten times the Pharaoh Ammon would be." Atemu waved out towards the courtyard. "Work your magic, you have ten days."

"You won't be disappointed, sir," Sacmis said as Atemu turned to walk back into the palace.

Atemu grimaced to himself as he walked by the marble pillars on either side of the large hallway. She had reminded him of Teana. That wedding. That wonderful, momentous day that he could only recall in disgust and disgrace now.

He let his legs carry him in no particular direction as he thought. His daughter - their daughter - was getting married, and she wouldn't be able to see it. His chest started to hurt. A memory was coming back. One he had long ago forgotten. Teana, talking about watching her children get married one day. He remembered now. She talked about decorations, ceremony, speeches...everything.

He staggered, slightly. Most of the time, it didn't even bother him. He could pretend it didn't bother him, at least. But different areas of his brain were being poked and prodded now.

_"Asenath really seems drawn to the color of gold. Her eyes light up when she sees it. We need a lot of gold at her wedding."_

Right. Gold. He'd tell Sacmis about that one. She did like gold.

_"They might have to special design a pair of sandals for her. She hates wearing sandals, she needs something really comfortable, you can't walk around barefoot on the sands."_

...yes, he could...he could see to that. He slowly fell to the floor, and was vaguely aware of commotion from guards. Where was he? He wasn't even sure. Somewhere in the palace, he thought.

_"She likes people. She likes crowds, social situations. Oh, she's going to be so happy on her wedding day! I just know it, darling!"_

Oh...oh yes, she'd be very happy. Now the guards were crowding around him, talking about something. Maybe he should tell them. Gold colors...now they were dragging him to his feet. He sat down on purpose. Maybe he wanted to sit down. Maybe...

Maybe...

""""

"I don't get it, father," Asenath held her hands out to her sides. Atemu was reclined on his bed, under the sheets, looking up at the ceiling. She was standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed, forehead furrowed. "If you were fine, why didn't you answer the guards?"

"I...uh, didn't think they were talking about anything important," Atemu answered shiftily, biting his lower lip. "I wasn't paying attention."

"You fell unconscious!" Asenath exclaimed. "If you're not feeling well, you need to say something, you are getting old! You're scaring me."

"I'm fine, I..." he sighed. "I was just missing...missing your mother and lost myself for a moment."

Asenath returned the sigh. "Yes, I...I think about her sometimes too. She really would have wanted to be here right now. I miss her just like I do."

Atemu nodded slowly. "I'm okay, just sort of trailed off for a minute. Don't worry about me, I'm not crapping out now that you're so close to marriage. I want to see evidence of grandchildren before I kick off."

She nodded, smiling, coming up to his side and ducking her head down. Slowly, she pushed it up through the crook of his arm until their heads were next to each other and his arm was resting on her shoulders.

Atemu looked away, down towards the foot of the bed. She still didn't know. She had no idea. Or she was very good at hiding it. Ammon wouldn't even look at him if he tried to speak about Teana.

Well...at least she'd be proud of him now. It wasn't worth much, but with this grand peace he had concocted...at least he had that.

"I miss her a lot, especially now," Asenath said slowly. "She should have been here to see this."

""""

"I think a mere eight percent increase in the funds we're putting into construction of the wall would allow for a massive increase in the speed of construction, my Pharaoh," Horus said, seated to the immediate right of Pharaoh Wati at the round table. "I've reviewed all the numbers; I think it'd be worth it."

Wati nodded, expression stoic and unchanging, face turned to his left where Ishizu was sitting. She didn't seem to have anything to say, just like every other time he called a meeting. Right now, it was just these two. The carry-over from the previous administration, and his hand-picked assistant for the time-being. Maybe he'd be a High Priest soon, time would tell.

"Also, I think it would be good if you made an appearance at the opening of the new university in three days. It's a very big deal, a lot of people are very excited about it. It would mean a lot."

"Send the order out to the barracks." Wati sat back slightly in his chair. "Assemble by morning. I want them fully prepared to move out."

"...move out to what?" Horus asked dimly.

"To the borders." Wati explained. "I want forces pushing out in all directions. It should be easy. Take prisoners when possible, kill anyone who resists." He propped his elbows up on the table, leaning forward. "They're to push forward until they reach the original borders. The borders before my predecessor sold all the land. Then they can regroup and begin strategical strikes on the remaining lands of surrounding countries, until we get all of it."

"Pharaoh. You mean for us to violently take back the lands we just sold?" Horus asked.

"In not so many words, yes," Wati answered, staring straight forward now. "The lands we just sold are virtually empty, there's no defense. It'll be very simple."

"Pharaoh, I feel foolish for even needing to say this, but it's not that simple." Horus cleared his throat. "We have a peace treaty to honor. We're the ones who made the treaty!"

"Horus, you may spend all evening tonight scouring that treaty. But I promise you will not find my name on it," Wati said evenly. "I can't not do this, Horus. There are no defenses to stop us and we'll outnumber them hundreds of times over. We'll gain massive amounts of lands in a matter of days. There's no risk and massive reward."

"Egypt's name is on that treaty," Horus insisted. "We'll lose all our credibility amongst everyone if we do this!"

"Credibility does me no good," Wati countered. "Land, gold, slaves, _they_ do me good. Nobody is in a position to stop us. I'd be an idiot to let a piece of parchment I had no say in creating stop me from doing this. We have the biggest stick. We should use it before someone else gets a bigger one."

Horus looked around the room helplessly. "This...it's far too early in your reign, my Pharaoh! Such radical decisions as this one, we need time to develop public trust-"

"If we wait, we give our rivals the opportunity to build up a defense. Strike now, and we might not even suffer a single casualty."

"Ishizu!" Horus turned to look at the elderly woman, who seemed still uninterested. "Do you have nothing to say to all this?"

Slowly, Ishizu stirred in her chair, still not looking at either of her fellow table-residers. Then, with a small cough, she finally spoke up. "There is really nothing to say."

Horus simply stared at her for several seconds, disbelief on his face. "Nothing?"

"Everything I want to say, I have already said," Ishizu said dismissively, finality in her voice.

"B-but, Ishizu, you haven't said-"

"Horus," Wati interrupted. "Am I to believe that I'm going to have to get someone else to deliver that order to the barracks? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Horus blinked a few times, staring down at the table, then back over to Ishizu.

"N-no, my Pharaoh. I'll deliver your message." Horus sat back against the backrest of the chair, heaving a deep breath.

"You don't get opportunities like this very often, Horus. In a moon cycle, all of our rivals will be crushed to dust under our feet. Egypt has a rare chance here. No risk, massive reward. Perhaps in a few decades, Egypt will be the entire world. There will be only Egypt. A piece of parchment will not stop me from such a possibility." Wati said slowly, standing up from the chair when he finished. "I will not be bound by promises made by my predecessor. He's gone. It's me now."

""""

"Told you we couldn't trust him."

Homer stared at the parchment slip inbetween his fingers. A signed note from a lord. _Egypt attacked, saw it with my own eyes. Our skeleton defense force and construction workers were wiped out immediately. About to be taken prisoner. Hope this message finds you._

The Greek King sat on the edge of his bed in disbelief for awhile, letting the note fall to the floor.

"You know something, Kleon? I really did believe him. I believed Atemu. I don't know why. But I did." He looked around his room. Golden trim everywhere, ornaments from every corner of the world, high ceiling...he'd have to take extra time to enjoy this room now; it wouldn't be his much longer.

"Same old dirty trick. Makes a promise, new Pharaoh comes in, doesn't uphold the promise the old Pharaoh made," Kleon spat. "All these years and they still pull the same crap on us."

Homer rocked back and forth on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor. Kleon waited, but eventually took initiative.

"I'll send all our remaining defense forces to the border, we expect Egyptian forces to arrive there very soon. With luck-"

"It's over, Kleon." Homer stood up slowly, pulling his robe tight over his chest. "They'll start mounting attacks on this city in a couple days, outnumbering us a hundred-to-one. And that says nothing about their black mage. With _luck_, we last a moon cycle."

"So that's it then? We're giving up?" Kleon stood, waiting for his father to offer up something at least remotely sounding like good news. "Would you prefer I prepare a surrender?"

Homer didn't reply. He pushed the small amounts of hair he still had left out of his face, sighing. "Round up everyone in our defense forces who's had assassin training. I don't care if they've only had one day of it, get them together. I don't care how you do it, get them into Egypt. Get them to the capital city. Target Atemu, his son, his daughter, his mage, the priests, the new Pharaoh...anyone important. Kill as many of them as you can."

"That's the best you have? Father, that won't save us."

"Nothing will save us. Come the next moon cycle, we'll all be dead. All we can do is take as many of them with us." Homer nodded. "It's the only thing we can do."

"I strongly doubt we'll do much of anything. I'm sure their personal defenses are extensive."

"All we need is one lucky shot. I'll go to my grave easier knowing that I was able to kill someone that son-of-a-bitch cares about. Besides, I think it's safe to say we'll hardly be the only country sending assassins." He started to chuckle to himself. "It's really come to this. Amazing."

""""

Sorry for the long hiatus. Life happens.


	10. The Vengeance of the Gods

Chapter Ten: The Vengeance of the Gods

Now this was a true wedding.

He remembered his own. Huge, massive, expensive, beautiful. All of those things. Sure, all that and more. But this, just as he had demanded, was even better.

There was a huge crowd assembled in the courtyard. Millions baking in the midday sun. Atemu was seated on a raised balcony attached to the palace, up on the second floor. His eyesight was starting to go. He couldn't distinguish any of the faces in the crowd. It was just a sea of heads. Unsettling, but he was getting older.

To his right was another similar balcony. There they were. The special people. It was their day. Pharaoh Wati and Princess Asenath, about to become Queen officially. He took in a deep breath. This was something he wanted to remember forever. The High Priest was saying...something. He couldn't quite make it out. His hearing was starting to fail him as well. But it didn't much matter anymore.

He stood up and turned around, slowly walking past other seats, where other high ranking officials and priests were seated. As he past them, they all bowed their head at him. Still plenty of respect to go around for the former Pharaoh.

He glanced over at one of the seats, vacant. Isis had chosen not to show. For a moment, he thought about punishing her, before remembering that such things were no longer his responsibility.

He kept on walking through the rows of large, single chairs along the balcony, coming to Mana's seat near the end. She tensed up as he approached, bowing her head.

Atemu smirked, looking down at her slipperless feet. She unconsciously dragged them underneath her chair.

"You know who goes out in public barefoot, Mana?" Atemu asked, eyes on her bowed head. "Peasants."

He saw her face go slightly red. Going around barefoot was a habit Mana had picked up in the slums, where there was hardly a slipper in sight, and something she had never shaken. She didn't like wearing slippers much, and though she occasionally did since she knew it was the proper thing to do for a woman of her status, she often forgot. Like today.

"It's a sign of poverty, low status. I suppose it's true what they say. You can take the girl out of the slums, but you can't take the slum out of the girl. You can't even remember to wear slippers on a day like this, the day of the Pharaoh's wedding, and you wonder why you can't marry into the royal family."

Quickly, Mana got to her feet, head still down. She spun around and walked off, heading back toward the palace.

He glanced over at the opposite side of the balcony, where Ammon was sitting, fuming at his father. In one fluid motion, he stood up and spun to walk after her.

"I knew I shouldn't have come," he muttered.

Satisfied with himself, Atem turned back around and walked back up the balcony, still unable to make out the words of the High Priest on the balcony over.

.

"Cowardly dogs!" shouted one of the disarmed soldiers laying on the sand. "The Gods will see to it your trickery is punished! You think you can get away with this?"

One of the Egyptian soldiers rammed a spear right into the back of the man's neck, causing him to cry out in pain before falling limp as blood gushed from the wound.

"We have no shortage of slaves in Egypt," the Egyptian soldier called out. "So we'll have no problem executing any prisoner who does a single thing we don't like. Think about your families, keep quiet and follow orders and you'll live through this."

"The wheat farm is secure, sir," a Egyptian soldier announced, running up next to his fellow countrymen. No real resistance. Everyone's been rounded up."

The man looked around at the many buildings, Egyptian soldiers emerging from them holding swords, signalling that they had each been cleared.

"Excellent." The head soldier sheathed his sword. "Put all the prisoners on the wagons and ship them back to the capital."

.

Wati slowly made his way down the steps towards the crowd, Asenath to his right. The two were holding hands and smiling as they slowly walked down to the cheering crowd.

Atemu smiled and fought back tears. This was perfect. It was beautiful. A union of true power. Yes, this has to have been the way it was meant to happen. The powers above wanted this.

He stood up, then spun around and raced towards the staircase in the back. He wanted to be on the ground for this. He took the steps two at a time, ignoring his body telling him that he was forty-three years old and that he should slow down.

He turned into the crowd and quickly made his way behind them, running towards the end of the line as Wati and Asenath slowly made their way down the lane between the two sides of the sea of people.

.

"The prisoners are on their way to the capital. We're done here." One of the soldiers reported.

"Very good," the head soldier said, mounting onto his horse and turning toward the border. "We keep moving. There will be resistance from here on out, but nothing we can't easily handle. We don't stop until we get to the ocean. We claim everything for Egypt. We don't stop until Egypt is everything."

He raised his hand into the air, and immediately all the soldiers ran up past the city. Those on horseback led the men beyond the city and out into the open sands. There, they formed up into units of rectangles.

"Be prepared for a fight this time. Do not hesitate to kill, we have enough slaves."

.

Atemu stood at the end of the crowd as Wati and Asenath walked past. He applauded them and smiled warmly. The pair stopped and turned around to look at the crowds.

"It really is unbelievable that I'm here right now," Wati said loudly, powerful voice carrying a great distance through the crowd. Immediately, the crowd quieted, everyone silent to listen to what the Pharaoh had to say. "You have no idea what it's like, to go from where I was, to where I am right now. Enough to make someone dizzy. I've always felt like I was destined for great things, but something this great was beyond even my wildest imagination. Here I stand, the most powerful man in the world, married to the most powerful woman in the world. Now, perhaps this is the moment where I tell you that I don't know what the future holds for Egypt. Perhaps that's what you've come to expect. Well, I do know what the future holds for Egypt. I know it as surely as I would had it already happened. This is the greatest nation ever assembled. And it will remain that way for a thousand years. No one will touch us. Every single Egyptian citizen will be prosperous. No more suffering for anyone. And the Gods will be so pleased with us, they will see it fit to reward us with gifts worthy of the new eternal superpower of the Earth! The messengers of the Gods will come down, and with their blessing, we will lead mankind into a new era!"

The crowd roared approval as he stopped for a moment, then immediately quieted back down.

"What they will see fit to reward us with, that I do not know. Longer lifespans? New technologies that we, now, can not even imagine? Perhaps the art of black magic restored? But I know that they will see what we have all done, and will reward us. That is what is coming. And with no enemies to threaten us, I will focus my efforts to spreading the seed of the Gods to every corner of my empire. I will produce dozens of children with my beautiful new wife, and the next generation of Egyptian rule will see the presence of God blood in every single corner!"

More cheers. The teachers had done a wonderful job of teaching Wati how to speak in public. Atemu glanced up at the balcony he had just left and saw Mana peering over the edge. He smirked. No matter how he insulted and abused her, she continued to obediently sit at his feet. The way it should be.

Suddenly, a massive plume of flames erupted from the middle of the left side of the crowd. Everyone screamed and crouched down, covering their faces as hundreds of guards drew their weapons. As Atemu bent down and covered his face, he saw two guards across the open court get their heads' sliced off by an intruder.

He heard the distinct twang of bows firing off arrows as he dove to the ground, another firely explosion rising up from the right side of the crowd. He looked up towards the crowd and saw a man running through the sea of prone bodies, towards him, a short sword out.

Atemu's body betrayed him, first freezing up as the man approached. At the last second, as the assassin leaped up to strike down on him, Atemu rolled away. The tip of the blade found his right thigh, drawing a nice long cut through the skin that immediately started bleeding.

Atemu looked up as the man rose the sword back up again, but two arrows suddenly struck him right in the chest, knocking him backwards and to the ground. Atemu stared at the assassin for a moment, then looked up at the Pharaoh and Queen.

Wati had just thrown a small knife up toward the staircase where one of the assassins had leapt. The small knife embedded itself right into the neck of the attacker, forcing him to drop his small bow and fall to the ground. Ignoring his wound, Atem jumped to his feet, feeling the blood cascading down his leg to his feet.

He quickly looked around as the guards swept through the entire courtyard, stabbing the bodies of about two dozen assassins to ensure they had been killed throughout the sands. Slowly, the members of the wedding reception glanced up, a sense that the chaos had subsided.

It was then that Atemu made eye contact with Asenath, still standing at Wati's side, looking shocked. Atemu looked down as well, and saw the front of her wedding dress had been stained a dark red. He glanced at Wati hopefully, but the young Pharaoh had seemed to escape the attack without a scratch, and nobody else was close enough to have bled on her. Atemu took a few steps forward out into the alley, and immediately felt an awful sense of dread in his stomach. Now that he was closer, there wasn't much mistaking the arrowhead that was poking out through her right breast, jutting out just past her dress.

She looked down for a moment, then back up as she fell to her knees. Atemu ran up to her, and she crumbled over, now revealing the short arrow stalk that was sticking out of her back.

Atemu kneeled down next to her, grabbing her hair and pulling it back so he could look at her face. He then looked around in a panic.

"Well?" he called out. "We need to get her a doctor. What are you all standing around for?"

One of the Egyptian guards ran up to his side. "Sir, we should get that bandaged," he said tenatively, pointing at Atemu's thigh.

"I'm fine, you idiot," Atemu roared, standing up. "You get _her_ help, she needs it!"

"S-sir, I'm very, very sorry," the guard replied. "The area is secure, but we really need to get you to safety and see to that-"

Atemu grabbed the man's shirt and lifted him up with strength that he hadn't remembered having for over a decade. "Idiot! You are wasting time! If Asenath dies, I will hold _you_ personally responsible! I will use black magic to make you immortal and give you to the torturers if she dies!" He pushed him away. "Go!"

The man ran off as fast as he could and Atemu slumped back down next to his daughter. "Well? Aren't any of you doctors?" He looked around at the crowd, none stepping forward or even making eye contact with the former Pharaoh. "She's...oh...oh Gods," he fell onto the sands face forward, then started pounding his right fist into the ground. "Oh. Why." He started to cry, grasping his left hand onto her wedding dress. "Why?"

.

Atemu didn't remember how he got up to his bedroom. Maybe he walked, maybe he crawled, maybe he was carried, maybe he teleported...who knew? And who cared? None of that mattered at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was slumped over on the ground, pounding his fists into the floor, sobbing.

He laid there for quite some time, then rolled over and started to scream. A deep scream that reached to every corner of the palace. He covered his face with his hands and pulled at his hair, as if any of it would bring his daughter back.

Finally, he opened his eyes and peaked through the tears and saw a pair of slippered feet in front of him. He slowly looked up a slim body wearing long, white robes, finally looking up at the High Priestess.

She just stood there, arms folded in front of her. Atemu shuddered, but slowly got up into a kneeling position in front of her.

"O-oh, Isis," he squeaked out. "You were right. You were right about everything." He reached up to grab at the front of her robes. "You were so right. I...I don't know. I'm awful. I'm the worst."

She said nothing, standing there, arms still crossed and face still expressionless.

"Isis, I am so sorry. I should have listened. I am lost. I'm s-so sorry. I-Isis, what do I do? I need...I need help. I'm broken, I've lost...I want to...make this right. H-help."

Slowly, she reached down and grabbed his right hand, then bent down towards it. She gave his fingers a light kiss, then slowly lifted him up into a standing position.

"Quiet now," she said soothingly, guiding him back towards the bed. She sat him down on it, then pulled out a long napkin. "It's going to be okay." She started to wrap the napkin around Atemu's cut on his thigh, tightening it to keep the blood from leaking out.

"Y-you don't have to-" Atemu blubbered, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

"Hush," she interrupted. "You won't be able to make things right if you're dead of blood loss." She knotted the napkin around the wound, then pulled out a second napkin. She walked over to a basin of water in the corner of the room, dipping this napkin in. "You should have had that taken care of immediately."

"I-Isis, I...we can have someone else do this."

She walked back over to him and started to wipe the dried blood off of his legs. "I'm going to do it."

"T-thank you, Isis," Atemu gulped out. He swallowed down hard. "I never...I never wanted-"

"The attack today was retaliation," Isis began. "Wati has ordered our troops to retake the lands you sold, then continue taking the land remaining. He intends to make the entire world Egyptian over the next month."

"N-no, Wati would never...he-"

"I was in the room when he gave the order, and I have seen the battle reports. Wati has broken the peace treaty." Isis picked up Atemu's leg by the ankle and started wiping off the blood on his slippers.

"W-well, that's...I...I suppose-"

"As you said. I was right about everything," Isis said shortly. "But if you swear to me that you seek to make things right, I will assist you in doing so."

"I swear," Atemu said, nodding. "Just tell me what I should do and I'll do it. B-but, what can I do I don't know. I don't have power anymore. I can't do anything."

"You underestimate me once again, your highness." Isis stood up, then walked over to the door of the room. She pried it open and peeked out. A single Egyptian patrolman stood there at attention.

"High Priestess?" the man said, nodding.

"I'd like to make you an offer you can't refuse," she said evenly.

"Understood, miss," the man replied, bowing before turning to run off. Isis closed the door and walked back over to Atemu, who had a furrowed brow.

"I'm quite confused at this juncture," Atemu said, applying light pressure to his thigh wound.

"I once told you I knew this was going to happen. Did you really believe I wouldn't have come up with a plan for it?" she gave a small smile. "In a few moments now, guards will arrest Wati and bring him here, before you. You will take the throne back. I have already overseen measures that will make the transition smooth."

"I-Isis...how..." Atemu gawked.

"You will then do whatever you need to do to re-install your peace treaty over the next several weeks as Pharaoh. When the peace is back in effect, you will hand the throne over to it's rightful owner, as well as make things right with him. Can you handle that, or do I need to write you a script?" Isis raised an eyebrow at Atemu.

"N-no, that's fine, I know precisely what I'm going to do. T-thank you, Isis, without you I'd be lost."

"I suggest you gather yourself," Isis said, holding her hands behind her back. "You will want to put on a stoic face for this."

He nodded, then started in taking deep breaths. He focused his mind on the events of the past few hours, focusing his anger towards the man responsible. Sadness made way for anger as he did this.

Finally, he heard footsteps coming down the hall and opened his eyes. The door flew open and half-a-dozen fully armed guards escorted Wati into the room.

"You are all going to pay dearly for this!" Wati screamed as two of the guards threw him onto the floor in the center of the room. "This is beyond madness! To even touch me is punishable by death, but this...none of you have any idea-"

"Wati," Atemu said sternly, cutting his tirade off. "You have broken Egypt's peace treaty, which has resulted in the deaths of dozens of Egyptian citizens, as well as the death of Princess Asenath."

"I don't answer to you!" Wati snarled, standing up. "I answer to no one! I made the right decision, whether or not you peace-freaks can see that!"

"You have proven yourself unworthy of the throne, and as such it is no longer yours. Effective immediately, I am retaking the throne, and you are under arrest for violating the peace treaty."

Wati barked out an unpleasant laugh. "I'm the Pharaoh, you have no authority anymore, stop your nonsense."

"I'm not the one with armed guards at his back," Atemu replied. "Your inability to see the value in the peace treaty makes you unworthy of the throne."

"There is no value in it! It's a stupid piece of parchment that tries to stop the advances of the strongest army in the world! Anyone who applies an ounce of logic to the situation could see it! There is no way we can lose! Within a month, I will make Egypt the entire world!"

"That's enough from you." Atemu cleared his throat. "I will begin repairing the damage you have done with the surrounding countries. I am confident I can restore the treaty. And you will be spending the rest of your days in the dungeons. The other world leaders may require your execution in order for them to trust Egypt again."

Wati tried to charge at Atemu, but the guards behind him immediately tackled him to the ground. They started to chain his arms behind him as he fought savagely.

"I believe that will conclude our business together," Atemu said as Wati's feet were chained together and the guards picked him up.

"You made me!" Wati screeched as he was pulled from the room. "I am what I am because of you! You made my parents raise me in a damn room that I could never leave! Whatever I am, I am because of you!" He gave a crazed smirk as he was pulled from the room. "You made me. Don't forget that!"

"Have Ammon and Mana brought here, please," Isis instructed the guards as they departed, shutting the door behind them.

"Very good...Pharaoh," Isis said, giving him a warm smile.

"It won't be easy, but I can get their trust back," Atemu mused. "Maybe I'll have to smooth it over a little bit, but I can do it. They don't have much of a choice. And I'm sure a public execution of Wati will convince them."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Isis said comfortingly. "And it's the right thing to do. If Seto saw the things Wati had done, even he would understand."

Atemu sighed. "I...I can't believe she's gone." His head sunk. "I can't...she was innocent! She had nothing to do with any of this." He shook his head. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"You have one child left. Make it right with him," Isis said. "There is still time for you to redeem yourself. And as long as you work towards redeeming yourself, I will be there to help you every step of the way."

"T-thank you, Isis. I don't deserve you, I really don't." Atemu sighed. "I...oh my god, this day. I could use a drink-"

Isis gave her Pharaoh a stern look, and Atemu immediately wilted.

"A-after I settle things with Ammon and Mana, of course," he added quickly. She smiled and patted him on the thigh.

Atemu simply sat there for a few minutes, mind going over his intended plan. Eventually, he realized that there was no plan for something like this. It was all emotion and flow of the moment stuff. Whatever felt right, he just had to let loose with it.

"Ammon is a good man, and Mana is a sweet woman. If you handle things right, I am sure both will gladly forgive you," Isis said suddenly as footsteps sounded down the hall.

A moment later, the door opened and a few guards entered with Ammon and Mana. Ammon immediately walked up to his father, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"Father, I'm so sorry about Asenath, this is a true tragedy-"

No, son. Listen," Atemu interrupted. "I'm sorry. You should be sorry for nothing. I'm sorry. I've been a truly awful father and person." He dropped off the bed onto his knees, grabbing his son by the shoulders and pulling him in closer. "I've...I've made so many mistakes, I've been awful."

Ammon glanced behind him at Mana for a moment, who hung back by the guards and just stood there at attention. "Father-"

"Listen...if you hate me forever, I wouldn't blame you. I deserve it. B-but, I'm going to try to make things right." Atemu started to cry again. "I really am. I'm re-taking the throne, and I'm going to fix the peace treaty. As soon as I do, you have my word that the throne is yours. You will be a great Pharaoh, greater than me, and it has taken me far too long to see that. Just let me fix the peace, and the throne is yours. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He hugged his son closer. "I'm sorry about your mother, Asenath...sorry for mistreating you...I'm sorry for everything. It's all my fault."

"D-dad..." Ammon said quietly, lightly patting Atemu's back. "It's...it's okay, but-"

"Wait, wait, I'm not done." He looked over Ammon's shoulder. "Mana, come here."

Slowly, uneasily, Mana stepped forward, looking down at her feet and glancing around the room.

"Mana, come here." Atemu let Ammon go and pulled Mana close to him, then hugged her. "Mana, I'm sorry to you too. The things I said, they were wrong. All of them. You're not subhuman, you're a beautiful, wonderful person. You are as precious as they come, and a much better person than I could ever hope to be. I had no right to talk down to you as I did, and I am truly sorry."

"O-oh, Pharaoh...it's okay, you don't have to-" Mana muttered, wrapping her arms around his head.

"Mana, listen to me. It would be an honor to have you as a daughter. I am a fool and haven't seen this before, but I see it now. The Gods would be honored to include you in the family line. I want you as my daughter, and Egypt wants you as her Queen. You have my blessing. Marry my son."

Mana's eyes lit up and she broke into a broad grin, then kissed Atemu on the forehead. "Oh, Pharaoh, you've made me...made me so happy."

Ammon just stared at the scene, mouth agape.

"Ammon, marry this beautiful, precious young woman, and treat her like she deserves to be treated," Atemu said. "That's the best advice I can give you."

"F-Father, I...I don't know what to say-"

"Then don't say anything," Atemu stood back up and sat back down on the bed. "Plan the wedding however you like, the throne will be yours as soon as possible."

Ammon ran forward and hugged his father, tears starting anew. "Father, thank you."

Mana joined the hug. "Oh Mighty Pharaoh, thank you for this blessing."

"Start calling me Father," Atemu asked as Ammon stepped away. "It's about to be appropriate." he smirked.

"And I'm sorry about Asenath, it's an awful loss," Mana squeaked, wiping at her eyes.

Atemu nodded. "It will never stop hurting, but...she would want me to learn from this. Learn from this and make things right."

"And when I'm queen, I promise to wear slippers all the time," Mana said, cracking a small smile.

Atemu smirked back, then picked her up and set her on the bed next to him. "Don't. In fact, I insist." He pulled off her right slipper and dropped it to the floor. "Throughout Egyptian history, royal family members with distinctive traits are typically remembered better. Maybe you'll go down as the Barefoot Queen."

He rubbed her toes between his fingers for a second as she smirked. Then he flipped her over onto her stomach on the bed, put her ankle in a arm lock, and started to scrabble the nails of his right hand on her bare sole. She immediately shrieked and started flailing around while cackling madly.

"Get her, son!" Atemu cried out, breaking out into a broad grin. Ammon shrugged, then decided to roll with it, jumping forward to rip her other slipper off, then started clawing at her foot. She laughed uproariously as she beat her fists into the bed and flailed around, but made only a half-hearted effort to escape, secretly enjoying herself.

After a few moments of this, the two stopped, and Mana rolled over and stuck her tongue out at her soon-to-be father and husband. Ammon naughtily reached forward and scratched at her belly, again making her give off a ticklish squeal, while Atemu teased her knees.

As Atemu crawled up the bed and hugged Mana, he realized that this felt more like a family than he had ever had in his life. Finally, there wasn't any arrogance and anger clouding his vision. Now, there were only the people he loved, and nothing else.


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

"I never thought I'd see the day when a Queen of Egypt parades around in that outfit," Atemu said, laying back on his bed, hands behind his head. He was looking Queen Mana's clothes over, not much more than a think silk shirt that left her arms bare and a short skirt that barely covered the top of her thighs.

"It's comfortable," Mana said, setting out a silver tray of fruit on the table next to Atemu's head. "If Ammon asked me to stop wearing it, I would."

"He's not stupid enough to ask you to stop wearing that," Atemu said. "Come on now. He takes a look at you going around like that and probably feels like the luckiest man in the world, which he is by the way."

"Well, get used to it," Mana said sweetly. "All three of your granddaughters wear clothes like this all the time too."

"New fashion's gotta start somewhere," Atemu said. Mana turned away from him to pour some wine into a glass. Throwing a sideways glance, Atemu reached forward with his right hand, quickly darting it beneath her short skirt, and giving her right rear cheek a pinch.

"Ooh!" She squealed, spinning around and clapping her hands to her rear. "Father, you're feeling naughty today."

"Dad, knock it off," Ammon groaned, walking into the room. "I saw that. She's my wife, and your daughter, that's creepy."

Atemu shrugged. "Not my daughter by blood." He threw a naughty smirk up at Mana. "And in that outfit, she's asking for it."

"I think it's time we put him down," Mana said jokingly to Ammon. "He's starting to go quite mad."

Atemu simply reached over and grabbed her, lifting her onto the bed with surprising strength for an old man, plopping her down on the opposide side of the bed. He grabbed her sides and started to squeeze them. Mana shrieked and cackled as she flailed around, Atemu pumping her sides with his long fingers.

"Dad, stop, seriously," Ammon groaned, going over to the other side and pulling Mana off the bed. "You're fifty years old now, enough fooling around."

Atemu merely stuck his tongue out at Ammon.

"Yeah, we need to put you down." Ammon looked over at the table where the fruit and wine was sitting. "Don't we have servants for that, or have things completely changed since my nap?"

"Well, I wanted to see him on his birthday, and I thought I'd bring him something nice while I was here." Mana kissed Ammon on the cheek. "He's fifty today, can you believe that?"

"With the way he behaves, most certainly not." Ammon grumbled.

"Yeah, that's right, it's my birthday! If I want to play around with my daughter, why can't I?" Atemu held his hands out to his sides, getting up into a sitting position.

"Because your idea of playing around is creepy and you're fifty." Ammon pulled Mana towards the door. "Now, happy birthday."

"Fifty is just a number. I'm a descendant of the Gods, age holds no meaning to me." He stood up.

Ammon rolled his eyes and opened the door. Immediately, five young children piled into the room, running towards the bed with big smiles on their faces.

"Oh! What do we have here?" Atemu cried as he picked the first one up and set him on the bed. The other four jumped up onto the bed next to him, crawling up next to him and tackling him in a hug. "Hello there!"

"Happy birthday!" They chorused. Mana and Ammon walked up to the bed, Mana carrying a bundle of blankets and Ammon helping a toddler up onto the bed.

"I have seven grandchildren now?" Atemu said, looking around at the seven little kids. "I'm losing track of you little guys! The next generation of Egyptian royalty is going to be a grand one."

"We're working on number eight," Mana said, patting her stomach. "Nothing to do but make babies when you're in peacetime and the economy is thriving."

"The more the merrier!" Atemu cried, throwing his hands up into the air. "Make twenty! Thirty!"

"If the Queen has her way, we'll have fifty," Ammon said.

"You know, if I had known how nice the life of a retired Pharaoh is, I would have given you the throne the moment you were born and retired right then and there." He laid back on the bed, letting the kids crawl all over them as he hugged them.

"What's so great about your life?" Ammon snarked. "Looks incredibly boring to me."

"Oh, boring is good," Atemu insisted. "For instance, I can sleep as much as I want. Nobody wakes me up ever, nobody tells me when to go to bed...I sleep like fifteen hours most days. As much as I want. Then, I wake up, and I can eat whatever I want. I ask for it, I get it. I don't even have to worry about health because I'm so old anyway. And then, I hunt down my grandchildren and get to play with them all day." He picked up one of his granddaughters and plied his strong fingers into her armpit and teased it with his nails, making her roar with adorable girlish laughter. He stopped after a few seconds and kissed her forehead. "I teach them things, tell them stories, play with them...and they love me." He reached over and stroked the forehead inside the bundle of blankets in Mana's arms. "And whatever time I have left in the day after all that, I have sex with any one of my hundred harem girls."

"How nice," Ammon deadpanned, picking up the toddler and flipping him over onto his back. "What a grand life."

"And all those hundred girls are duty bound to do whatever I want them to do. And I do mean _whatever_ I want them to do-"

"Father!" Mana cut him off. "There are young children present."

Atemu shrugged. "Hey, a few years from now it'll be the same for them. God blood gives one a desire for sex that humans can only satisfy if they number in the hundreds."

"Ammon doesn't even have a harem," Mana said, sticking her nose in the air. "It's me and no one else."

"Sometimes it skips a generation," Atemu explained.

"Maybe I need all my god-like sexual focus on making as many children as I can, ever think about that?" Ammon shot.

Mana leaned in next to Atemu and whispered in his ear. "He gets tired before I do."

"Like I said, skips a generation. So, these children you're having, be ready for them to have some truly _memorable_ conquests. Particularly with no war going on to distract them."

"Speaking of which, father," Ammon grunted. "Happy birthday, the wall is completed."

"Excellent!" Atemu said one of the young children crawled onto his face and latched on to it. He managed to pry him off and set him on his chest. "Everything's good to go."

"Nobody is getting through that wall unless we let them in," Ammon said assuredly. "It's thick, it's tall, it's deep, the defensive mechanisms are top-notch...no one can touch us in here."

"I'm proud of you, Ammon." Atemu nodded. "Now, I'd be more than happy to spend the rest of the afternoon playing with my grandchildren."

"As long as you're not playing around with my wife," Ammon said. "Now, I suppose me and Mana should go work on number eight."

"Alright, kids," Atemu said, sitting back up and setting the kids down on the bed in sitting positions. "You guys come from the Gods. You guys have God-blood running through your veins. So, like I've said before, it's important you learn all about the Gods so you know where you came from. So, where were we last time?"

.

"I wish I looked half as good as you," Atemu said, laying back on his pillow. "It's impossible to believe that we're the same age, you look twenty compared to me."

"Your flattery is appreciated," Isis said, smiling and going slightly red. "I try to take care of myself."

"Yes, well, whatever you're doing is working wonders." Atemu stretched back on the bed.

"Congratulations on reaching your fifties, sir," Isis said, hands clasped in front of her. "A grand achievement. I was surprised to see you decided to forgo the party."

"I don't need parties anymore," Atemu insisted. "Too old to enjoy them. I just want to play with my grandchildren and have hours of sex. Not at the same time."

"Right, well, should I leave you to that?" Isis asked.

"Not quite," Atemu said, looking over at the desk on the far side of his bedroom. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," Isis answered. "Unless it involves that second thing you wanted to do."

"I'd be honored, but no," Atemu laughed. "That desk over there, in the right drawer. I've finally completed it. I want you to take it."

Isis slowly walked over to the desk, then pulled the brass knob on the right drawer open. Inside was a thick stack of parchment, the first page blank. She quickly peeked through the pages to see small writing on each page.

"Memoirs?" Isis asked, scooping the stack up into her arms. "This might need to be a two-parter."

"Everything is in those. Everything I can remember in my life. Everything that might be interesting. The world should know the truth. The entire truth," Atemu grunted. "Take them. Copy them. Put them in every library in the world. I want every Egyptian to read it cover to cover. I want everyone to read it."

"When you say everything, do you really mean...everything?" Isis asked, turning to look at him.

Atemu nodded. "It's time the world knew. The world shouldn't remember me as an infallible, perfect deity who led Egypt into a new age and conquered most of the known world. They should know me as a man, and know the things that I regret, and the wrongs I have done."

"Aren't you afraid of...backlash?" Isis closed the drawer.

"I don't think I'll have anything to worry about," Atemu said wistfully. "Before Mahad died, he said something about how...once a person doesn't have purpose in life anymore, they tend to just...go out. How, once you don't have a reason to hang around, you're just done."

"What are you saying?" Isis stepped forward. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Atemu said. "But I don't think it matters. Those memoirs...I really wanted to finish those. And now I have, so what's left for me? Sleeping, eating, playing, sex. I've been doing those things for a long time, not much of a...purpose. So I wouldn't be surprised if...well, time to check out."

"Sir, are you indicating you expect to...die?" Isis asked.

"Mahad wasn't right about everything. But he was right about a lot of things." Atemu closed his eyes. "But it's fine. Nothing left for me now. Go, get my memoirs out. That's my final wish."

"I will," Isis said, walking towards the door. "Well, if you're right, I'll just say a few things." She stopped and turned back around. "It was an honor serving you these last several decades. You are the greatest Pharaoh who ever lived and the Gods will be honored to welcome you into the afterlife. You have expanded Egypt manifold in size and prosperity, and guaranteed us peace for hundreds of years. I can only hope you realize what a grand Pharaoh you have been, inspite of your transgressions."

Atemu nodded. "See you there."

Isis nodded, turned back around, and left the room.

And that was that.

Atemu would indeed pass on the next morning and have the grandest funeral progression ever held, capped off with a tomb that rivaled some palaces in size and luxury.

Isis made sure his memoirs were distributed to everyone, and it was no surprise that nobody would wait to read them.

Many were shocked by the truth. Stunned.

Yet, it seemed like nothing changed.

There had never been a better Pharaoh. He had left the country in near-ideal circumstances, far and away the dominant superpower in the world. They were huge, powerful, and untouchable. It was all by his hand.

If anything, the scandals and secrets of his reign made him more impressive.

He was human. He was fallible. And yet, he had done all this.

Ten years later. A hundred years later. A thousand years later. Egypt still thrived, and everyone knew who was responsible.

Everyone remembered the man who made Egypt the superpower that would never die.

Throughout the history of Egypt, the country has known over a hundred different Pharaohs. In casual conversation they were often referred to with certain terms that distinguished them from the others so everyone knew who someone was talking about.

Pharaoh Panhsj might be called "The Nude Pharaoh" for his love of...well, yes. Pharaoh Ra was referred to as "The Scholarly Pharaoh" for his reign that focused on improving schooling in Egypt.

Atemu needed no such identifer.

That's how well-remembered he was.

He was simply, and always will be, The Pharaoh.

.

Sorry this took forever to finish. I lost my muse.

That concludes my epic three part trilogy. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
